


Si Cher

by nightrose



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom/sub, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 28,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightrose/pseuds/nightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five years since Enjolras led the Amis de l'ABC in a successful revolution against a government that was perpetuating economic inequalities and allowing the rampant abuse of the poor and submissives. They've set up a peaceful government, where submissives who can't find a dominant partner will be matched with someone who the government has deemed trustworthy, but one of their number happens on a girl, Éponine Thenardier, who was almost sold against her will by a government-approved auction houses. Enjolras decides to go undercover and determine where the root of this corruption lies.</p><p>E/R is the main pairing, the others are background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Marius, I am trying to lead a meeting here,” Combeferre sighs. This is the second time this week Marius has shown up with an unknown young girl in tow, and frankly he’s getting a little sick of it.

“No, it’s—“

The girl starts. She’s starved-looking, brunette and pretty but so thin it seems she might blow over in a good breeze. “You said they would help,” she whispers, her voice cracking. Marius squeezes her hand.

“This is Éponine. She has news. About a problem she believes… and I agree… is a concern for us.”

“Go on,” Enjolras says.

Combeferre sighs, and addresses the trembling girl more gently. “Tell us, dear. Nothing to be afraid of here.”

“I… my parents. Sold me. To an auction house.”

“That’s illegal,” Joly points out.

“I didn’t know. I don’t know… I was… sold. Contracted out. My parents said… no stipulations, in the contract. I had to agree to anything. Get the best price.”

Enjolras winces. The auction houses had not been his idea. He would never willingly see one human being made slave to another. Yet Jehan, a submissive himself, had quietly spoken up for those who had not been as lucky as he. ‘Some people need care,’ he had insisted. ‘Not everyone finds it as I have. You must reform them, that’s sure, but you mustn’t been them. It’s a cruelty, not a kindness.’

So when the revolution had succeeded, he had insisted on hand-checking every contract, at least at first. And there had been no problems.

But it’s been nearly a year, and he’s fallen off doing that.

“I finally… I told the lady in charge of my contract. She dropped it. Set me up at M. Gillenormand’s as a servant. Respectable, like.” She shivers. “My ex-lover had a bid in. He likes knives.” 

The entire crowd visibly winces. 

“It was better than nothing, but I didn’t like that house. The… they were… very demanding. Very cold.” She looks at Marius, her face suddenly soft. “Marius took me from there. He said he would help me. He said you would help people like me.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Combeferre insists. Joly thrusts a mug of something warm into the girl’s hand, and Marius sits beside her. “Of course we’re going to help.”

“Of course,” Enjolras speaks up. He’s been trying to let Combeferre lead, since violent revolution is no longer what’s necessary. Yet on this there is no way he can remain silent. “We will tear every such house down to the stones on which it stands. No one else will ever suffer as you have.”

Bahorel snorts. “Enjolras, you would.”

“What? We cannot let such an injustice—“

“The woman was kind to me,” Éponine whispers. “She found me a good place.”

“And the others there? The boys and girls up for auction? How did they seem?” Combeferre asks gently.

“Happy. Happy enough. Not like me.” She looks down. “I didn’t talk to them much, but I think… I was the only one who… The lady asked me. We had check-ins every day with her, she was… concerned about me. She could tell. I don’t think… I don’t think it’s a bad place.”

“We must investigate,” Enjolras insists.

“Of course,” Combeferre agrees, opening the question to the others. There is much nodding, several shouted agreements. “But what shall we do?”

“An undercover operation?” Feuilly suggests. “Send someone in?”

Enjolras looks at Jehan, one of the only two submissives in the group. Jehan shakes his head. “I cannot.”

Combeferre lays a possessive hand on Jehan’s shoulder. “You will not ask this of him.”

That’s that, then. “Marius?”

Marius shakes his head as well. “Not now. I haven’t the time, with—“ He blushes. “I must find her.”

Enjolras looks coldly at him. “It’s a good thing you didn’t meet her before the barricades rose, or you might have abandoned us all.”

Marius looks down, hurt, and Combeferre glares at Enjolras.

“Very well. Feuilly, Prouvaire, Bahorel, you’re all out.” They’re all unoriented, and none of them good enough actors to fake a role so intense for as long as this could take. “Joly and Bousset?” They have some unclear dynamic going on with the mistress they share, but perhaps they will— Joly’s too nervous for such a task, though, and it’s not fair to take one of them and not the other. “That leaves Courfreyrac and Combeferre.”

“I won’t leave Jehan,” Combeferre says calmly.

“All right.” Enjolras turns to Courfreyrac, who raises an eyebrow.

“Enjolras, you know, you could do it?”

“Me?” Enjolras hesitates. Such an idea had never occurred to him. But Courfreyrac can be so hedonistic sometimes. He might be tempted by the sights of such a place. Enjolras knows he will not be. “Very well. I will go in and… buy whatever wretched soul looks most unhappy. And from her will I learn the secrets of the place.”

“What of the girl?” Bahorel asks.

Courfreyrac turns to her. “If you would go with me, sweet, I would take you. I live with Combeferre and Jehan, you would not be alone with me.” He holds out a hand. “I will help you find a new life. There will be nothing to fear.”

Her eyes dart around the room, but finally she nods. Her voice is hoarse when she says, “Thank you,” and her hand is tiny in Courfreyrac’s when she finally takes it. 

It is only once they’ve all left that Enjolras realizes Grantaire spoke not a single word of interruption during the entire meeting.


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras makes a thorough plan before he goes. Of course, that is his usual way of doing things, but on this matter he must be especially careful. He has known of his own dominant instincts since the earliest stirrings of puberty, around his twelfth year. He has simply been very successful at repressing them. 

He has avoided temptation entirely, living a life removed from sexual or romantic pursuits. It’s not that he thinks there is something abusive inherent in dominance—he cannot imagine Combeferre ever truly harming Jehan, for instance. Yet his own fantasies have ever been cruel. A man who believes in uplifting all mankind should not imagine a lover kneeling at his feet, worshipping him as a god. Nor should he take pleasure in the thought of using a belt to turn someone’s back black and blue. Yet he does, and so he has forbidden himself even the imaginings.

He will have to be very strict with himself. He cannot allow a moment of weakness—he doesn’t know how traumatized whatever individual he finds will be. He’s certain that the girl, Éponine, would obey any command given, in the state she’s in. Yet he feels no temptation to it, and he must trust in that. Whatever his fantasies, he is a moral man. He will harm no one.

His cover story is that he’s looking for a service submissive to help with cleaning and paperwork, that sort of thing. Cooking skills a bonus. No sexual component. He wants that off the table entirely, so he won’t have to discuss it, wouldn’t have to resist it. They’ve set aside six hundred francs, almost the entire discretionary budget for the Submissive Placement Oversight Committee. Any other part of the budget requires paperwork, and must be made public, and this is supposed to be a secret investigation.

Six hundred francs won’t buy any submissive Enjolras could pick, but that’s all right. Courfreyrac ruefully points out that they’re more likely to be mistreated the lower they’re valued.

He arrives at the auction house from which Éponine had escaped first thing on Monday morning. He doesn’t try to disguise his identity, only his reason for coming. 

A pleasant-faced older woman opens the door. “M. Enjolras. Come in. I am Élene, I manage this house. It is an honor to have you.”

Enjolras isn’t surprised to be recognized by name, exactly, but a little startled. When strangers greet him by name, it’s usually in the context of his work with the government, or to thank him for his near-sacrifice in the revolution, and that couldn’t be more opposite a context than this.

“Come, sit down.” She leads him to a small, well-appointed parlor, blue walls and overstuffed chairs, and offers him a cup of tea. He declines politely.

“I prefer to get to business. Not to be rude.”

“A man after my own heart,” she smiles. “Have you ever worked with a house before, Monsieur?”

“No.”

“Are you here to bid or to sell?”

Enjolras flushes. “To bid, Madame.” It might be wiser to go up on the block himself, to see firsthand how submissives are treated, but he does have some dignity, and he’s not sure he could succeed in the charade. 

“So I thought. You have that look.” She smiles at him. “What are you looking for?”

“Someone to help me with work. Trustworthy. Much of what I do must be secret. To help me around my home. That is all.”

She nods. “We have many such. Anyone who leaves this house can be trusted absolutely. They have been trained well—as you will be.”

“Madame?”

“You surely know we cannot let just anyone walk away with another human being’s life in their hands, Monsieur. It is your own government’s rule—but more than that, it is a matter of conscience. After what happened with that poor girl—“

“What girl?”

“You haven’t heard?” She clucks her tongue. “Oh, a very sad case. I would think it would be your department, seeing as how you’re a government man. She was a lovely girl, one of my own. Her father was to get fifty percent of the bid money, as is standard enough—some submissives keep it themselves, some pay their debts—and I the rest. But there is a second bidding, you know, where the contract is negotiated, and money can be exchanged… I did not know that the poor girl had been bullied into believing that she must accept any contract offered her, submit to any terms however violent, so her father might have the largest sum of cash. I did my best to see her situated as soon as I found out, of course, but it’s the most terrible scandal. That I almost did such a thing, to sell one human being to another unwillingly… Terrible. I hope she’s well, poor thing.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Enjolras lies. This… is something he had not anticipated. Perhaps Feuilly was right, and this investigation was truly necessary. More may be going on than the testimony of one traumatized girl can uncover.

“Anyway. We’ve increased our training requirements. You will have sessions with me every day for a month, whenever you are prepared to begin. There will be others as well, of course. It’s a class like any other, and there are other teachers who do guest sections on specialties—bondage, for instance, or the use of disciplinary instruments with which I am not familiar. All are encouraged. My sessions on negotiation and consent are mandatory. If, and only if, I deem you ready, you may participate in our next auction. Typically there is a waiting period, but you are a special case, Monsieur. If I think you can be trusted, you may bid on August 19th’s auction.”

Enjolras nods. The others were right. This is quite an operation. Something to devote himself to, now that the revolution is over. “It would be my honor to learn from you, Madame.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Fourteen.” He spares a glance downward, seeing the mark his blow has left. It is precisely visible on the black pillow they use for practice, as the cane was covered in chalk before they handed it to him. “Fifteen.” He steps backward, letting Élene step close to admire his work.

“Very good, Enjolras. Perfectly even, no overlap. Very good.”

“Thank you.” He spares her a smile for the praise, his face flushed with exertion, his arm just slightly, pleasantly sore. 

“Of course, it’s harder on another person.”

“Of course. Pillows don’t move much when you hit them.” Enjolras does not intend to actually hit anyone, obviously, but should there be some strange circumstance in this endeavor that forces him to, at least he knows he’ll do no true damage.

“Nor do they moan enticingly and beg for more. It’s a great distinction.” She smiles at him. “Now, on your reading—“

Pop quizzes are a surprisingly regular part of the curriculum. He’s been given a number of readings on various subjects, but primarily that of consent and negotiation. He almost laughs at being treated so like a student again, but ntohing could be more important than what he’s done the reading on. “I found the latest article fascinating.”

“Don’t flatter me, Monsieur.”

“No, truly. I didn’t… I feel I better understand why someone might be in such a position, now.” Indeed, he’d spent half the night agonizing over the reading. It seemed quite convincing, the pamphlet’s suggestion that some submissives truly need the sort of treatment he cannot allow himself to administer.

“It cannot be wholly a new idea. Surely you have some submissive friends.”

“I do not discuss the intricacies of sexuality with my friends,” he informs her, embarrassed at the thought of talking to, say, Marius about what exactly he wants that blonde girl he’s always babbling about to do to him in bed. Marius would certainly tell him, should he ask, but the whole thing would be dreadfully uncomfortable.

“I am somehow unsurprised. And—the article was for general consumption, so I didn’t include this—many of our submissives, those who come to us to find someone, are particularly vulnerable. They have been unable to find dominants on their own, perhaps they have been rejected, perhaps abused. You know this.”

“Yes.” 

“I do not believe you would ever take advantage of a submissive under your care, or anyone else for that matter. You have impressed me, Enjolras.”

It’s the first time she’s called him by name. “Thank you.”

“The next auction is on Saturday night.”

“Yes?”

She smiles. “I hope you will place a bid.”

He’s taken aback. The past month of training has been exhausting and exhaustive. He’s learned how to wield whips, canes, belts, and all manner of other things, how to press a knife to someone’s skin without doing them any harm, an impressive array of different knots and rope arrangements, and how to negotiate a deeply intimate contract with a total stranger. He’s certainly learned a great deal—and, in the process, had to question much. He finds it difficult to believe that they would put him through this if they are truly allowing abuse to go on. It seems that every protocol he required is being put in place, and then some. Still, greed can do many things. “My budget is—“

She holds up her hands. “Please. It’s no matter to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You pay my salary anyway. I get a generous income from the Submissive Placement Oversight Committee, every year, based on compliance with the regulations. Sales are not a factor. If I did not successfully place a single contract, for the reason that I was unable to find a single suitable pairing, I would still receive my income in full, and if I received a hundred thousand pounds apiece at auction for every submissive in Paris, I would not see a penny of that money. It’s all controlled by the Committee—I thought you would know that.”

Enjolras is embarrassed to admit that he doesn’t. “So why the bidding?”

“Because many submissives have debts—to their parents, to whoever has been taking care of them, to former employers, whatever, and if they are to put their chance of being employed in the hands of another, they need a lump sum to disclose those debts. That’s the short answer. The long one—well, you did the reading.”

“Yes?”

“Some of the people who come to me have never felt they have any value. It can be most gratifying for them to know that they have value—that they are literally worth something.”

Enjolras is troubled by this answer, but he can’t deny that it makes sense with what he’d read. "And they are not... hurt by the fact that some are worth more than others?"

She sighs. "It's inevitable. We try to assure all of them that it isn't a competition. And of course they are all very unique-- very different needs, very different situations. They cannot be directly compared."

He's still not satisfied, but he returns to the question at hand. “And you think six hundred will allow me some chance?”

“Yes. Perhaps if you were looking for a sexual relationship, it would be different. Often, that can be quite a pricy service. But for what you're looking for, you should be able to negotiate a very nice contract on those terms. In fact, I think…” she trails off.

“What?”

“There is a certain… but never mind."

"Allow me to insist."

"There is a young man. He will be up for bidding at the auction. And for some reason it seems to me that the two of you would suit each other."

"His name?"

She smiles wryly. "I cannot tell you that. Saturday, at seven. You may see and chose for yourself.”

Enjolras thanks her heartily and takes his leave.


	4. Chapter 4

The auction is honestly rather shocking at first. There are men and women, of all ages, brought out one at a time. They are all in various states of undress, and some completely nude. They kneel as an auctioneer reads their various qualifications, names, ages, and the like, and then bidding begins.

For about the first hour, Enjolras sees no one of interest. The first round is mostly attractive young people up for sexual contracts, and the bidding starts quite high—at a thousand francs or more, far beyond his budget.

Little by little, though, the amounts decrease. Eventually, the numbers become more reasonable. Still, though there’s something frightening about the endless well-trained and lovely people being brought out. Enjolras doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s a little intimidated.

“Number 62,” the auctioneer announces, and Enjolras could swear Élene winks at him from her seat in the front row.

A young man is led on—he’s Enjolras’ age at most, perhaps younger, pulled along by a leash. At first, as he kneels with his head bowed, all Enjolras can see of him is his mop of dark, curly hair. He’s completely naked, his hands tied behind his back, emphasizing the defined muscles of his chest. Enjolras feels a distinct stirring of something like lust, a feeling he allows himself quite rarely. There’s little chance he’ll even be able to bid on this man, though, as becomes only clearer when the auctioneer begins talking. 

“This young man is twenty-two and has never been in a legally registered contract. He’s a student and artist, very bright, and very eager. He has the fewest listed limits out of any of the submissives up for auction tonight. Terms of the contract are up to you, the buyer, but he is highly trained in domestic and personal service.”

Enjolras begins to reconsider the possibility—intelligence would, after all, be a great asset in a subject for this investigation. On the other hand, he ought to avoid buying someone he’s so physically intrigued by. It can only lead to troubles. 

“As you know, most of our submissives are trained for at least three months before they can pass our rigorous examinations. He was able to do so in just under a month and a half. He enjoys some pain and is willing to provide sexual services.”

There are murmurs of interest among the audience, and Enjolras sighs, giving up hope. He hopes they bring out some less desirable submissives soon, because frankly it’s becoming a bit sad, torturing himself with thoughts of what it could be like to own someone willing, someone who would be happy to be his. But Enjolras can never trust himself to have that. Although they’ve assured him throughout the course of the training that he is perfectly responsible, he cannot bring himself to believe it. Not when he saw the way submissives were treated, the things they pretended to agree to, before the revolution. He may want to forget that, but he never will.

So he will wait, and do what he must, and when the time comes he’ll place a bid on someone average and get the information he needs, and this will be just work like everything else in his life.

Enjolras turns his attention back to the stage, watching politely, with practiced, careful neutrality. He can’t let himself care.

The auctioneer tugs on the leash and the man looks up at the audience, his face carefully blank.

Enjolras presses both hands over his mouth to cover his noise of shock as he recognizes Grantaire. 

The interest of others is dying away as they look at Grantaire’s face, which cannot be considered handsome. Enjolras does not allow himself a second to think or he will doubt himself into inaction. He pulls out the small journal where he keeps a ledger of his personal expenses and quickly confirms his mental estimation. He has some twelve thousand francs saved up—his whole savings, but more importantly enough money to buy Grantaire’s contract no matter what.

“We will begin the bidding at 150.”

Enjolras stands, as do several others. There is a man about twice Enjolras’ age, with greying hair, wearing an expensive suit. Next to stand are two men who look to be in their mid-thirties, both red-headed and like enough that they could be brothers. There’s also a handsome dark-haired woman, about Grantaire’s own age, wearing a simple dress and a determined expression, and a rather mousy but well-dressed blonde old enough to be Grantaire’s mother.

“Two hundred. Do I hear two hundred?”

No one drops out of the bidding yet. Enjolras takes a deep breath, feeling oddly nervous. He cannot lose this. His friend is up there, for sale to strangers. 

“Three hundred!” the older man offers.

The dark-haired woman sits. Grantaire sneaks a look out across the audience, checking out his prospects—and sees Enjolras there, standing for him.

Enjolras doesn’t know what Grantaire thinks, exactly, but he can see Grantaire’s expression clearly enough. It’s something between shock and rapture, and that only shores up Enjolras’ resolve. “Four hundred!” Enjolras shouts.

All the others remain standing, however. “Four fifty,” the blonde woman says, and the two younger men both sit, exchanging reluctant glances.

It’s only the three of them now. Enjolras is barely conscious of the others, though. His eyes are fixed to Grantaire, nothing but Grantaire. “Five hundred.”

“Five-twenty,” the woman says, and the other man sits down, shrugging. 

“Five-fifty.”

“Five-sixty.” The woman smiles knowingly at him.

Enjolras scowls, sick of the charade. “A thousand.” It’s far beyond his budget, of course, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, except finding out what on earth Grantaire is doing here. And getting him out safely. He’ll pay whatever it takes, and he has money. He’s little else to spend it on. He’s never in his life wanted anything as badly as he wants Grantaire’s contract in his hands right now.

“A thousand, one hundred.”

“A thousand five hundred.” He crosses his arms over his chest, turning to meet her eyes. After a moment, she sighs and sits.

“One thousand, five hundred. Going once, going twice—sold, to the young man in red.” 

Grantaire can clearly hardly contain his emotions. Enjolras hopes it’s happiness he’s seeing on the other man’s face, but he’s not sure. It could be nervousness, could be resentment, could be fear. Whatever it is, he loses sight of it quickly enough as Grantaire looks down again, trying to maintain his decorum.

“Will you be bidding on any more lots tonight?”

“No,” Enjolras manages, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.

“Then you may collect your property backstage and someone will escort you to a contract room. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras doesn’t look away from Grantaire until he leaves the room, rushing to meet him backstage.


	5. Chapter 5

One of Élene’s assistants, a pretty young girl whose name Enjolras can’t be troubled with recalling at this of all moments, meets them at the door. She’s holding the end of Grantaire’s leash, which she passes wordlessly to Enjolras as soon as he comes into view. “Thank you,” Enjolras says, still staring at Grantaire.

Grantaire doesn’t meet his eyes, looking meekly down at the floor instead.

“Contract room six is ready for your use, Monsieur. Madame Élene will be with you as soon as possible.”

Enjolras spares a brief nod for her before heading off in the indicated direction, Grantaire’s leash still in his hand.

When they arrive in the room—another of the comfortable parlors this house contains so many of, Enjolras drops the leash. He settles into one of the chairs, expecting Grantaire to do the same.

Grantaire falls to his knees in front of Enjolras’ seat, a few respectful inches away so as not to touch him.

“Grantaire, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know, sir. Does it bother you?”

“You don’t have to call me that, either.”

“I can stop if you’d like, sir,” Grantaire says. 

Enjolras sighs. “Could you—oh, look at me at least.”

Grantaire’s eyes immediately turn to Enjolras’ face.

“What on earth are you even doing here?” Enjolras asks.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I’d sent in my initial request, done the first week of training—the non-residential part. When I heard you talking about coming to investigate, I realized this might be my last chance, that these places would be shut down and I would be alone forever, sir. I thought there would be plenty of time before you’d be able to bid. I didn’t expect you to find me here.”

“I didn’t even know you were…” Grantaire has always been outspoken, abrasive. Nothing like Marius or Jehan, who are both so obviously submissive, or even like the kneeling, quiet version of Grantire in front of him now.

“I always kept it… not really secret, but I wasn’t loud about it, sir. I didn’t find it made a lot of difference how I… Because no one was going to want me. It was easier to do without.”

“You keep saying that. I don’t understand, R, it seems like plenty of people wanted—“

“I’m not handsome,” Grantaire says, tentatively. “Or particularly good at silent obedience. I’m not what anyone wants.”

“But—to sell yourself—“

“You must think me pathetic, sir,” Grantaire whispers, eyes flicking back down. Enjolras tugs on the leash, urging his eyes back up. He regrets his pushiness instantly—the move was instinctive.

“That’s not what I mean, Grantaire.”

“I have nothing,” Grantiare tries to explain. “In my life. Nothing. I care for nothing, and no one cares for me. What do I have to live for? Except the hope that someone might someday… and that I despaired of long ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says, not knowing what else to answer. Luckily, he doesn’t have to , as Élene enters the room, notebook in hand and already down to business.

“Hello, gentlemen. Grantaire, I have to ask you to take a seat. House policy, everyone at an equal level for negotiation.” 

Enjolras releases the end of the leash, reaching down to offer Grantaire a hand. He helps him stand and into the chair next to him. Élene sits across from the two of them.

“I take it you two have introduced yourselves.”

“We know each other,” Enjolras explains tersely.

She smiles. “Ah, then you must know Apollo.”

Grantaire’s face turns white.

“Hm?” Enjolras asks.

“You know. Grantaire is always going on about this young man—“

“Élene—“ Grantaire begins.

“Handsome, determined, dedicated—he sounds quite a treat, I’d love to have him in—“

“Élene,” Grantaire hisses, decorum forgotten. “That’s—“

She looks between the two of them. “Oh. Oh, my.”

Enjolras cannot meet either of their eyes. “My friends have sometimes called me by that name, yes.”

“Then it’s—“

“I didn’t plan to find you,” Grantaire says quietly. “I thought you would never know. That I would disappear and trouble you no longer, that a stranger would buy me and give me something to do other than waiting around for scraps of your affection.”

“Grantaire, I—I didn’t—“

Élene, mercifully, interrupts. “Can you take care of him?”

“Madame?”

“You are surprised at your friend’s submissive nature, and at his affection for you. Neither of you expected this. I did not either—though I must admit I somehow imagined the two of you would suit each other, I did not know you were acquainted. If I’d known, I would not have encouraged you to tonight’s bidding. We’ve had troubles with this kind of situation before. Yet you’ve won the auction, and so you have the right to try and come to a contract agreeable to both of us—and that I am willing to approve. And I will tell you now, M. Enjolras, I will not agree to any contract unless you can assure me that you can, if not return, at least accept his feelings.”

“I do,” Enjolras says without a thought. “But, Grantaire, why did you never speak of this?”

Grantaire shrugs. “Afraid.”

“Of what?” Enjolras cannot bear the thought that his friend might have been frightened of him.

“You’d laugh at me. That I’d dare.” Grantaire doesn’t elaborate, but there is so much wrapped up in those simple words.

“Never,” Enjolras promises intently. Then he adds, to the both of them, “I will do everything in my power to take care of Grantaire.” As he should perhaps have done years ago.

“Good. Then I suppose this is a negotiation that can begin.” She pulls out the notebook and begins to look over her lists of their limits. “As I said, Grantaire has more or less the minimum legal number. You will recall that we don’t allow anyone to go up for auction who has none, after what happened with that poor girl. Would you prefer to read these yourself, or shall I?”

“You can,” Grantaire says, clearly embarrassed.

“Very well. First, no anal penetration with anything other than fingers or the penis.”

Grantaire sighs. “Did you have to start with that one?”

“It’s first on the list. Second, no other sexual partners, for either of you.”

Enjolras nods. “Agreed, happily, to both.”

“Third, minimal contact with bodily emissions other than semen and sweat. Some blood is acceptable.”

“I do not anticipate blood being involved. As for the rest—of course.”

“And finally, punishments, reprimands, or other forms of discipline cannot include the deliberate withdrawal of affection.”

Enjolras is forced to consider what would lead Grantaire to add such a thing, that the other man could imagine being scorned as a form of discipline. “Never.”

“Very well. Are all those terms agreeable to you both?”

“Yes,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire nods.

“Enjolras, your requirements.”

“I can give those myself,” Enjolras says. “First, privacy and secrecy. You know that I am involved with government work—and you know many of my secrets already. I expect you will continue to keep them private.”

“Of course.”

Enjolras isn’t particularly worried about that. In the worst of Grantaire’s drunken stupors, he’d never revelaed any of Enjolras’ plans for revolution when it could have ruined everything, and things are so much less dangerous now. “You will hold your own safety paramount. At any point, you will tell me if I am causing you physical or emotional damage, and I will cease. This is not negotiable.”

Grantaire nods slowly.

“I also expect you to generally do as I tell you, unless you have a particularly compelling reason not to. In which case you will give me your reason. And furthermore I expect your honesty on any subject, with the same caveat—you have a right to your own mind, but you must have a reason to keep things from me, and you are never to lie to me, only refuse to speak.”

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire says breathlessly.

Enjolras pulls back, embarrassed. He hadn’t realized how close he was leaning into Grantaire, nor the tone of command his voice had taken on.

“And Grantaire, what do you need from Enjolras?”

“To be given tasks. Something to do with myself. I’d like some time—at least an hour a day—to work on my art. And to be allowed to see the others sometime.”

“I would not keep you a prisoner,” Enjolras ensures him.

“But most of all, I want to know… what I can do to please you. And to be allowed to do that. And to be told when I have. That’s what I need. I need you to give me a purpose.”

Enjolras nods slowly. “I think I can do that. I know I will try.”

“Other terms? Will this be a sexual relationship?” Élene urges, continuing with her list. 

“Please,” Grantaire says, his eyes wide.

“We can leave that as a possibility,” Enjolras suggests, somehow unable to resist the chance that his fantasy may be coming true.

“Safeword?”

“Red for stop. Blue for slow. White for go,” Grantaire says. “Or at least that’s what I usually use.”

“That’s fine. I’ll use those as well.”

“Excellent. And how often would you like someone from this house to stop by and check on your progress?”

Enjolras is surprised. “Madame?”

“You can’t expect me to simply let you walk away with months of my valuable investment. I provide an excellent product. I must do quality control.” She smiles, indicating that she’s joking at least somewhat. “Besides, I need to make sure you’re treating him right. Usually we do weekly at first, then monthly.”

“Monthly is fine, if you don’t need to come more often,” Grantaire says. “I trust Enjolras.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says ruefully. “I’ll see you in the last week of August, then.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugs. “The details are for you to arrange between the two of you.” She hands them the sheet of paper she’s been taking notes on. “If you’d just sign?”

Grantaire does, readily. Enjolras takes another moment, reading everything again. He can feel the heat of Grantaire’s eyes on him.

Finally, he signs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short interlude with some collars :)

“One more thing before you go,” she tells them. “Would you like to purchase a collar here, or have one made? The one he’s wearing now is property of the house.”

Enjolras shrugs. “It makes no matter to me.” Grantaire visibly shrinks back in his chair, and Enjolras sighs. He would be ruining this already. “I mean to say, I’ll see what you have here and decide if it’s sufficient.”

Grantaire looks gratefully up at Enjolras.

“Follow me,” Élene says. She leads them to another room, lined with small glass boxes. In every one there is a beautifully made collar on display. Enjolras looks at them all, considering. It appears this is important to Grantaire, and he wants to make a suitable choice.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. That his dreams are coming true, and in such a way. He’s wanted this for so long, wanted to own someone. He’s also pushed it away, utterly rejected the idea.

And now, almost by happenstance, this man—this terribly clever, unafraid, bold, loyal man—is his, and, apparently, quite determined to do whatever Enjolras wants.

“Grantaire, choose your favorite three out of these. Take your time. Bring them to me.”

Grantaire immediately sets off. He’s careful, thorough. It’s obvious how much this means to him, and again Enjolras regrets his thoughtless comment before. He is going to have to learn to be more aware of Grantaire’s feelings. He had never expected his friend to be so sensitive about anything, but in this place he is obviously vulnerable.

Grantaire returns, holding three boxes in his hands. One is simple, a black leather strip like the one Grantaire is wearing at the moment. Another is brown, with gold leaf florate patterns on it. The last one is a softer black, less harsh, with a pattern of delicate silver stripes and a loop in the front, a tag hanging off it. The tag is blank at the moment, but Enjolras imagines his name engraved on it, marking whose property Grantaire is. “That one,” he announces.

“I’ll pay for it,” Grantaire offers. “I have—from the auction—“

“Nonsense,” Enjolras says. He hands over the collar and the indicated sum of money, which is rather more than he wishes to part with… but he wants to show Grantaire this matters to him to, even if he’s less than sure how to show it. “I want this engraved. Can you do it here?”

“Of course. It should say?”

“I want a capital R on one side, and on the other…” Enjolras thinks for a moment. “’My own.’ And beneath that copy my signature. Can you work in that much detail?”

“Yes. It will take a while. Perhaps two weeks. I can have it delivered when it’s finished?”

“Thank you,” Enjolras tells her. He moves to unclip the leash and collar Grantaire is currently wearing. 

“You may keep those til I deliver this,” Élene tells him.

He nods. “Thank you.” He tugs on the leash gently. “Come, R. Let’s get you home.”

Grantaire follows him obediently out to the carriage. He stops in a locker room to collect several suitcases, which Enjolras helps him carry, unfortunately forcing him to let go of the leash. When they’re loaded into the back, though, Grantaire kneels in the well of Enjolras’ seat, his head in Enjolras’ lap.

Enjolras feels like he should protest, like he should tell Grantaire not to do this.

He doesn’t have it in him. Instead, he runs his fingers through Grantaire’s hair and whispers down to him, “You are, now. My own.”

Grantaire sighs, the tension fading from his body, and buries his face in Enjolras’ thigh. Enjolras strokes his hair, soothing, gentle, until they arrive.


	7. Chapter 7

When they’ve arrived, Enjolras leads Grantaire into the apartment. He wants to let go of the leash, but somehow senses that isn’t the thing to do.

“Would you like to sleep now, R? It’s getting late.”

“I’m not tired, sir.”

“Me neither.” Enjolras smiles at him. “Can I get you anything? Food, drink?” he pauses, and reconsiders. “Not alcohol.”

“I’m fine, sir. It seems like you want to talk.”

“I’m not going to lie, I have some questions.”

Grantaire nods. “I can answer them.” 

“Come on, then.” Enjolras leads him into the study. “Sit.”

Reluctantly, Grantaire settles into one of the armchairs, and Enjolras sits beside him. “I like to kneel,” Grantaire says, his voice small.

“I have noticed. And I will permit it—maybe require it. But not right now. I feel we must talk as equals.”

“You just bought me. You signed the contract. We’ve talked—“

“Yes, in front of others. There are some things I wish to have a private discussion about.”

Grantaire looks expectantly at him.

“Why?” 

Grantaire answers, hesitantly, “I want something. More than I have on my own. I have nothing. No direction. No purpose. I thought… someone else could give me something to be. I needed something other than my devotion to you.”

“What do you mean?”

Grantaire laughs, a harsh short sound. “Enjolras, are you not aware that I’m completely enamored of you?”

“What?”

Grantaire covers his face with his hands. “My God, you really aren’t. You actually don’t know… Well, this is embarrassing.”

“I saw you kneeling completely naked on a stage, Grantaire. We have passed the point of embarrassment.”

“I don’t—how can you just say things like that so calmly, do you know what that does to a person?”

“Enamored?”

“Yes. Okay, yes. You are the only thing in the world I believe in and I have wanted to be yours since the day I met you. And I entered the auction in the clearly misguided hope that I could find anything else to care about, since I felt certain you disdained my feelings.”

“I—disdained?” Enjolras rarely feels as useless as he does at this moment.

“Clearly, I was mistaken, and you were simply unaware. I had assumed you did not return them and were too tactful to reject me. Since I had assumed I was so blindingly obvious no fool on earth could miss the fact that I stare at you constantly and have repeatedly said to your face that you are the only thing I believe in.”

“Oh,” Enjolras says, sounding rather like the fool Grantaire has just implied he is. “You… you sold yourself because of me?” He’s rather horrified at the thought, for all he’s beginning to accept that the auctions are not wholly a bad thing.

“Because I needed… I was looking for someone other than you, anything other than you, to care about. And hopefully someone who would accept my devotion.”

“So… I should not have…” Enjolras honestly hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. He is regretting that now. “I shouldn’t have bid.”

“What?” Grantaire takes a moment to process, then shakes his head vigorously. “No, Enjolras, no. I am—I would never have dared to hope for this, but if I could have, it would be my wildest dream to belong to you.” Grantaire looks down. “I am making a fool of myself, I know. You will have to forgive me. I am… the auction left me in quite a state. I am… much less reserved even than usual. It is better than any drink, to have so much attention focused on one, at least as a submissive. Normally I would not—I would not say—“

“You are not to hide things from me,” Enjolras says firmly. “I am grateful for your honesty. And glad that this arrangement pleases you. For it pleases me.”

“It does?”

“I can trust you, I think, to keep me in line. To keep me true to myself, for you know me well—better than I know myself.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then I can let myself have you. I have denied myself for a long time, Grantaire. Now I do not need to.”

“I would deny you nothing,” Grantaire agrees quietly. “I must maintain some limits, but otherwise… I want so badly to be yours.”

“You are. You are mine.”

Grantaire makes a soft choked noise. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“And I will care for you, Grantaire. I will give you order, if that is what you need. Direction, protection, guidance. You are mine now,” he repeats, the words beautiful in his mouth. “My own boy.”

“Sir—“

“You may kneel now,” Enjolras says, surprised at the imperiousness in his own voice. Grantaire practically falls to his knees in front of Enjolras. “I will care for you. I will treasure you. I will give you what you need.” He tucks his fingers underneath Grantaire’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You have my promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Shh, now. I think we ought to get to bed.” Enjolras helps him to his feet.

“Where will I—“

“With me.” Enjolras unhooks the leash, taking Grantaire’s hand instead, and leads him to his bedroom.

They lie side by side in the bed. Grantaire is hesitant at first, but Enjolras hooks an arm around him, pulling him close, and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Enjolras wakes up before Grantaire, luckily. It gives him a few moments to think, before he gently shakes the other man awake.

“Morning, R.”

“Mmmrph. Later,” Grantaire grumbles, throwing his hand over his eyes. A moment passes, and he sits bolt upright. “Wait, I- Enjolras?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I just—not a morning type. I—“

“It’s fine, Grantaire.”

“Mm.” Grantaire, reassured, rolls back over, pressing his face into Enjolras’ shoulder. “Morning.”

“I woke you because I’m hungry. Come have brunch with me.”

“Must I?”

Enjolras laughs. “You are yourself again, I see.”

“Was always myself. Just a happier, less sarcastic, less sleepy version. Will this brunch include drinks?”

“It could include coffee. Not alcohol.”

Grantaire makes a face. “Fair enough,” he says nonetheless, letting Enjolras help him out of the bed. 

They dress in silence, Enjolras modestly turning his back to Grantaire. When they’re clothed, Enjolras turns back to face him. “Would you like me to put the leash back on, Grantaire?”

Grantaire shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

Enjolras reaches out his hand instead of looking for the leash and Grantaire takes it, eagerly. “Come,” Enjolras says, leading him down the stairs and out to the street. It’s a beautiful day, bright and sunny, exactly the perfect setting for a romance—which this is, after a strange fashion.

“So,” Grantaire begins.

“Yes?”

“How is this going to work out? I mean, do we tell the rest of them? Do I get to do stuff for you?”

Enjolras laughs at the sudden burst of energy from Grantaire, squeezing his hand. The other man stills instantly. “We will figure that out. Here?” he suggests, as they walk by a café.

“Certainly.”

They order bread and coffee and sit down at the small wooden table together. “We needn’t tell anyone, if you don’t wish,” Enjolras says.

“I don’t care. I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of,” Grantaire asserts, his tone combative.

“That’s not what I—excellent, then I’d rather they know.” Enjolras will not bicker with him, not now.

“Good. Thank you.” Grantaire’s voice is terse.

“Grantaire, settle,” Enjolras snaps at him, instinctively. The tension goes out of Grantaire’s shoulders instantly, and he drops his gaze. “I am not trying to mistreat you. I have never done this before and I cannot read your mind. If I offend, I apologize.”

“You do, Enjolras. You do. For you think you can speak, not with, but for me. You think you know better than everyone else about everything, but you don’t know what it’s like to be an unwanted submissive, because you never have been and you never will be. And when you try to speak for me, when you claim to know more about my needs than I do myself, you are doing what you claim to fight against.” He freezes suddenly, looking down. “I’m sorry, sir. You told me to be honest.”

“No, Grantaire, don’t—“ Enjolras sighs. “Don’t apologize. This is you, is it not? Biting, cynical, pulling no punches. This is the man I have known all along. I would not lose him so that I might have a more mannerly submissive.” 

“You never appreciated my cynicism before,” Grantaire accuses.

“I did. Just… quietly. I thought that was what our friendship consisted of. You challenged me, I appreciated it, but—I was clearly wrong. I did not even know you were a sub, R. Not until I saw you at the auction.”

“Really?” Grantaire blushes furiously. “I thought it was… it was terribly obvious.”

“I’m not particularly good at reading people.”

“Is that why—“

“Why what?”

“Why you’ve never had a sub before.” When Enjolras looks curiously at him, Grantaire shrugs. “Combeferre told me, and he would know.”

“Yes. He would. I mean, that’s part—I have—“ He hesitates. “Can we talk about this later? I swear I shall tell you. Just not now. Not in public.”

“Are you ashamed of your blushing virginity?” Grantaire teases. 

“It’s not that, it’s—eat your breakfast, R.”

Grantaire smiles at him. “Yes, sir.”

Enjolras shifts in his seat, uncomfortably aroused, and turns his attention to his own food.

When they’re back in the apartment, they sit on the couch side by side and Enjolras confesses his deepest of secrets. “I want—and have always wanted, as long as I can remember—more than I could ever ask of another human being.”

“Dominance is perfectly natural.”

Enjolras shakes his head. “I’m not like Combeferre, R. Not like the other Doms I’ve known. What I fantasize about is not protecting and sheltering, but hurting and controlling.”

“And you don’t think that’s what subs—well, some subs—want?”

“Not… not this way.” Enjolras turns away. “I am not going to hurt you. I want you to know that. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Even if I ask you really nicely?”

“What?”

“Even if I say—“ Grantaire slips off the sofa and onto his knees “Please, Enjolras, sir, bend me over and beat me? Whip me with your belt til I bleed?”

“Don’t mock me about this, of all things—“

“I am deadly serious, Apollo. I would not ask you for this if I didn’t want it. If I hadn’t dreamed of wearing your marks since the day we met, I would not beg you for them. Or do you think there is no shame in this for me? You think I am not embarrassed, not afraid? To ask these things of you, when I have been—“ Grantaire hesitates, but finds his courage. “When I have longed for your esteem for so long.”

“You have it.” Enjolras reaches down, pulling Grantaire up to sit beside him, almost in his lap. “You have it, my friend. And though I do not know if I can—“ whip him, hurt him, make him suffer, willingly, so eager to please, so beautifully obedient—“I will intend… I want to be able to… be a good dominant, for you. You must help me in that.”

“You can trust me,” Grantaire says intently. “I will. I will do everything I can. And I know you will be very good to me.”

“I will surely try,” Enjolras says quietly, squeezing Grantaire’s hand in his. “I will try with all my might.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Where can I begin?” Enjolras asks, quietly. 

“You might give me a task to do. If you are inclined… if you find me worthy, you might permit me to serve you in some little way.”

“For instance?”

“If you are tired, I could make coffee. If hungry, food. If you are tense, I can give a fairly good massage thanks to Élene’s excellent classes on the subject. I could tidy your apartment or straighten your papers or answer your mail, any little task you are too busy for but will entrust to me. I will do whatever—well, almost whatever—you ask. And I will, I promise I will, stop you if what you ask falls outside my limits.”

“Very well,” Enjolras says, reassured that Grantaire remembered to say this last. Then he remembers something else, something long ago. “Before the Revolution.”

“Yes?” Grantaire’s confusion is clear.

“I was angry with you—for something, I don’t know what. And you said—you would do anything. To gain my favor. Even…” The memory is so vivid in Enjolras’ mind, the temptation of that moment, to accept the offer he thought then was made only in jest—perhaps even poking fun at him, at his deep and dark desires. “Even black my boots.”

“So I said.”

“Were you—was that a genuine offer? Of submission?”

At that Grantaire rolls his eyes. “Did you genuinely not understand that? Your innocence is downright adorable—“ He catches sight of the fire in Enjolras’ eyes and hastily adds, “Sir!”

“You need to be more clear.”

“You need to be less oblivious. I was pretty much slutting it up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Obviously I can go further.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says, suddenly sincere instead of teasing. “I wish… I wish I had been less foolish. I wish I had known sooner.” He realizes it as he says it—“I must have caused you a great deal of pain.”

Grantaire shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter, and that’s how Enjolras knows it’s true. “You’re with me now. It’s more than I ever hoped for.”

“I am. I am right here, and I am eager to begin making up for the time we’ve lost.” He looks meaningfully down, at the black boots he’s wearing.

“You want me to-“

“Get on the floor,” Enjolras tells him, his voice calm. “Kneel between my legs and beg my permission.”

Grantaire makes a strangled, wanting noise in the back of his throat and practically collapses to the floor. “Please, sir,” he pleads. “Please let me—l—“

Enjolras reaches down, stroking Grantaire’s hair encouragingly. “Go on.”

“Please let me lick your boots, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Grantaire sighs at the praise, at the soft motion of Enjolras’ fingers through his hair. 

“I have boot polish and a shining cloth in the foyer, under the little stool by the door. I want you to crawl there and get those things, and then to my office and fetch me the folder with today’s date on it. I need to get some work done while you serve me.”

Grantaire groans again, low and pleased. “Yes, sir.”

“You can walk back. I don’t want you wrinkling my papers.”

“Yes, sir.”

Grantaire crawls away, moving slowly and confidently, as if he’s practiced. Enjolras watches, appreciative and eager, and then begins to make a plan. He’s going to let Grantaire do his boots, that much is for sure. Shine them and then lick them. But he doesn’t know if he wants to let Grantaire suck him off afterwards. Well, no, he knows he wants it. He just doesn’t know if he can let himself have it.

Perhaps he’ll let Grantaire beg for it and decide then, he thinks with a wickedness that surprises even himself.

Grantaire returns to the room, shuffling on his knees instead of crawling so he can hold the papers and polish in his hands. It looks like it hurts to move that way. Enjolras swallows hard, looking at him—at him willingly hurting himself, so he can debase himself, so he can please Enjolras. 

“Good. Come here.”

Grantaire approaches him, stopping only when he’s between Enjolras’ legs again—right where he should be, Enjolras thinks with a wild disbelief at his own forwardness.

“Give me the papers.” 

 

Grantaire hands them up, with a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Enjolras peruses them, making sure they’re the right ones, before beginning to read them over.

Simply, almost casually, he says to Grantaire, “Black my boots.”

“Yes, sir.” Grantaire lowers himself down further, pressing a kiss to the tip of each boot, and then kneels up, pulling Enjolras’ feet onto his thighs and reaching for the polish. 

Enjolras is watching him over the top of his paper, though he pretends not to be. Grantaire’s face is totally rapt, completely bound up in his task. He is careful and thorough as he daubs polish on the slightly scuffed areas of Enjolras’ boot (there is no real damage, since Enjolras is careful with all his possessions and sees an actual bootblack quite regularly, though he may abandon the professionals entirely after watching this). This, too, he must have practiced—he runs the cloth back and forth with the speed and ease of one who’s done it many times before. “Did they teach you how to do this?” Enjolras asks him.

“No, sir.” Grantaire blushes, his hands still rubbing the polish into Enjolras’ boot, darkening his fingers with the black. “I used to… after… when I offered to do this for you, and you rejected it. I would do my own, and imagine—I was being allowed to do this for you.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath, trying to steady his arousal. “Did you like that fantasy?”

“Yes, sir. Sometimes I would have to walk around with only one of my boots polished because I couldn’t control myself. I’d have to stop halfway through and imagine you touching me.”

And Enjolras remembers that, remembers days when Grantaire would be disheveled with one boot filthy and the other pristine, or spots of polish still on the laces, and imagines Grantaire alone in his apartment, kneeling on the floor, a hand wrapped around his cock, dreaming of this. He slides the foot that Grantaire isn’t working on up a few inches and presses it to the bulge in Grantaire’s trousers. Grantaire swallows hard and keeps working. He’s focused so intently on Enjolras’ boots, like they’re the only thing in his world. 

“You’re a good boy, Grantaire,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire moans, eager for the praise. So Enjolras withholds it, turning his eyes back to the paperwork, as Grantaire rubs the polish off the boots. 

“Is that acceptable, sir?”

“Very. Good work. You may use your mouth now.”

“Thank you, sir,” Grantaire says—thanks him, and means it, genuinely grateful for permission to lick Enjolras’ boots.

And lick them he does, long slow strokes of his tongue leaving a neat, even coat of his spit behind. He coats every inch of Enjolras’ boots, the toe, the sides, all the way up his ankles. He carefully kisses the skin just above the boot before returning to his task. Eagerly, slavishly, he works his tongue over the leather, leaving a shining coat of spit behind.

It is the best Enjolras’ boots have ever looked. It is also the hardest he’s ever been. Each firm stroke of Grantaire’s tongue goes straight to his cock, til he’s aching in his pants, straining the fabric of his trousers with desire. Grantaire is on his belly, lowering himself to reach the backs of Enjolras’ boots, gasping with the effort as he tries so desperately to please. 

And still Enjolras wants more, wants worse. Wants to kick him, to pull his hair, to call him names for wanting it. Enjolras feels sick, yet want it Grantaire clearly does, eager in his own debasement, desperate to please. 

“Thank you,” Enjolras gasps, “That’s sufficient.”

Grantaire sits back on his knees, waiting for further orders, and Enjolras stares down at him, guilty, pleased, longing, and more aroused than he’s ever been in his life.


	10. Chapter 10

“Talk to me, Grantaire,” Enjolras orders roughly. 

“Thank you, Apollo,” Grantaire whispers, his voice rough. “Thank you for letting me serve you.”

Enjolras’ hand reaches for him reflexively. Before he can stop himself, Grantaire is leaning into the touch. Enjolras wraps his fingers through Grantaire’s hair and tugs gently, not enough to hurt. “You did well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Grantaire’s cheeks color. “Yes, sir.”

“How did the reality compare to the fantasy?”

“The reality is much better,” Grantaire says, blushing. “Much, much better. You- you were—you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“That’s all I want.” Grantaire smiles sweetly up at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Would you like to do something else for me?”

“You would—“ Grantaire looks at the bulge in his trousers. “May I?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras says. “You’ll have to convince me.”

“Sir?”

Enjolras takes a deep breath, working up the courage to say it. “You want to suck my cock?” He’s not entirely sure he’s said the word cock aloud ever in his entire life.

Grantaire’s eyes widen, his pupils dark. “Please, sir.”

“You can do better than that.” He lifts the toe of his boot again, brushing it across Grantaire’s clothed erection, watches him swallow hard. “If you want it you’re going to have to beg me for it.”

“Let me suck your cock, sir, please, please, I’ll be so good, I’ll be perfect, I’ll do it just the way you want, however you want, I’ll do whatever you say—“ Grantaire looks up at him, meeting his eyes. “Please, Apollo.”

Enjolars growls and grabs Grantaire’s hiar, pulling his head back sharply. “You are perfect,” he says, shocked at how easily the words slip from his mouth. “A perfect slut. On your knees, begging for my cock. Begging to serve me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire shakes his head slightly, as much as he can with Enjolras’ hand in his hair, and tries to pull away.

“N-no—“ he whispers, and Enjolras drops his hand instantly, as if he’s been burnt.

“I’m sorry. Grantaire, I’m—what did I—I shouldn’t have called you that, I—“

“You… you shouldn’t lie to me,” Grantaire whispers, his voice barely audible.

“What are you talking about?” Enjolras asks, his voice carefully gentle.

“M…my appearance is… not…” Grantaire appears to be choking on the words.

“Come sit beside me, Grantaire,” Enjolras says, patting a spot on the couch. Grantaire obeys, still not looking at him. “May I touch you?”

“Yes, sir. If you want to.”

Enjolras wraps an arm around his shoulder, squeezing slightly. “You’re going to answer my question, pet. You may take your time, but you will tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m not beautiful. You are. You deserve a submissive who is physically appealing, which I cannot be, no matter how hard I try.” Grantaire’s words come out in a quiet monotone.

“Excuse me,” Enjolras says, coldly. “Do I hear you doubting the fact that you’re mine?”

“Sir—“

Enjolras grabs his wrists, pinning his shaking hands to either side of his head, and moves to straddle him. He kisses Grantaire passionately, roughly, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth, invading Grantaire’s mouth with his tongue. “Mine,” he hisses, and Grantaire whimpers in an automatic response that goes deeper than thought. “Do you not believe that I want you? Grantaire, the things I want to do to you…”

“Sir, please,” Grantaire begs, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“What do you want, pet?”

“I don’t… I don’t know, I just…”

Enjolras leans in and bites his swollen lip softly. “You are beautiful because I say you are. Your submission is exquisite. The look on your face right now is the loveliest thing I have ever seen.”

“Sir—“

“I would not lie to you. Not about this, not about anything. And I will not have you question me again.”

Grantaire whimpers at the command in his tone. “Sorry, Apollo,” he says, not sounding all that sorry at all. 

“You’re a good boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And because you’re such a good boy, you’re going to get what you asked for.” Enjolras reaches up to ruffle his hair. “You want to please me?”

“Yes, more than anything—“

“Then get back on your knees, Grantaire. I want to see how perfect you look with my cock between your lips.”

Grantaire moans and falls to the ground. Enjolras undoes his trousers, pulling his erection free with a quiet sound of relief. 

“Keep your hands behind your back. Do not move them.”

“Yes, sir.” Grantaire shifts slightly to follow the order, then leans forward, eager. Enjolras lets his fingers graze against Grantaire’s cheek. 

“Go on. Serve me.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Thank you, Apollo,” Grantaire whispers, his voice barely audible. He leans forward just a little, lips falling open. “Thank you so much.”

And he means every word. He’s so grateful, grateful for permission to suck Enjolras’ cock, just to please him. “I am glad that you’re mine,” Enjolras says, intently, and Grantaire chokes back a sob of joy and lets his tongue slide out from between his lips, and there is a knock on the door.

“Enjolras?”

It’s Combeferre’s voice. Instantly, both men freeze. Grantaire looks up at Enjolras, for guidance, and Enjolras has the sudden brilliant realization that if Enjolras asked, Grantaire would suck his cock right in front of their friend. “We’ll wait for him to leave.”

“I’ll break this door down if I have to!” This time the voice is Bahorel’s, and he means it.

“Okay, change of plans. Up, sit next to me. I’ll let you finish later.” Enjolras tucks his cock back into his trousers, his erection still showing clearly, throwing a blanket and Grantaire so he can sort of hide his nakedness. Then he stands to open the door.

Courfreyrac, Combeferre, Bahorel, and Jehan are standing there. Enjolras blinks at them. “Good, you’re alive,” Bahorel says.

“What? Yes. I’m fine.”

“You weren’t at the meeting. That is… distinctly unlike you. I was wondering where you were,” Combeferre explains. “And by wondering, I mean worrying. You don’t seem ill-“

“Last night was the auction. I have…. Purchased…” 

“Oh.” 

Jehan grins. “Can we meet her? Please?”

“Um. It’s- I mean they’re- I mean—“ Enjolras swallows. “Later. Okay? Later. Can you—“

“Go? Sure. Just… promise you’ll swing by, later.”

“Six?”

“Indeed. Explain everything.”

“I want dirty details!” Courfreyrac hoots.

“By the way,” Bahorel asks. “Have you seen Grantaire?”

Enjolras miraculously manages not to blush. “I’ll see you tonight.” He closes the door on them and turns to the couch, where Grantaire has been more or less hiding under the blanket. “Hi.”

“Sir.”

“Sorry about the interruption.”

Grantaire isn’t meeting his eyes. “Do you – do you not want them to know about us, sir?”

“I just wanted to be sure I have your agreement. I would be proud to tell our friends that you’re mine.”

Grantaire blushes. “Thank you, sir.”

“Do you want that, pet? For them to know?”

“Yes sir. I’m so glad I’m yours. Want everyone to know.”

“I am as well.” He hesitates. “Grantaire?”

“Sir?”

“Can I-“

“What?”

“Mark you.”

Grantaire hesitates. “What do you mean?”

“Bruise your neck with my mouth. I want everyone to know you’re mine.” 

Grantaire moans aloud, turning his face up to Enjolras’, pressing his cheek into Enjolras hand. “Please, sir.”

“Then I’ll let you suck me off.”

“Thank you.”

Enjolras can hardly believe this is happening, that there is someone who’s grateful to be owned by him, to worship him the way he’s always dreamed of, always forbidden himself. “On my lap, pet.” He grabs Grantaire’s arms and pins them behind his back, keeping him immobile with one hand as he reaches the other up to Grantaire’s collar, tugging him close by the loop on it. Grantaire, pinned and immobile but still leaning toward Enjolras as much as he can, groans as Enjolras’ teeth sink into his neck just above his collar. “Mine,” Enjolras hisses fiercely into his skin, mouth working against his neck. Grantaire presses into the touch, just as eager for it as his dominant is. 

Enjolras pulls back to survey his work. A brightly colored bruise- red and blue- is showing against Grantaire’s tanned throat. Enjolras touches it gently with a finger.

“I want you to always look like this. Collared and hard and marked as mine.”

“Please,” Grantaire rasps. 

“Good boy. On your knees.” 

Grantaire goes, willingly, and Enjolras guides him down. He keeps a steady hand in Grantaire’s hair, helping him, but doesn’t push his head down as Grantaire takes Enjolras’ cock into his mouth.

Enjolras whines at the touch, almost too much pleasure. He’s never had anyone near his cock but for his own hands, and Grantaire’s warm skilled mouth is almost too much. Grantaire looks up at him, meeting his eyes, and Enjolras can see there the desperation for reassurance. So, ever merciful, he grants it. “You’re perfect,” he tells Grantaire. “My perfect cocksucker. Such a talented, beautiful mouth. I never noticed before, but it’s mine now, every part of you is mine, and I’m going to use you. I’m going to use you so well, till you’re stretched and aching for me, mouth swollen, jaw sore, and you’re still going to beg me for more, aren’t you, my beautiful slut-“

Grantaire whimpers, sending hums of vibration down Enjolras’ cock.

"You're such a good boy, Grantaire. I'm so lucky you're mine. I should have taken you years ago, my poor good boy had no one to own him, no one to use him. That will never happen to you again, my pet. You'll be mine forever, and I'll always take care of you. I promise."

He can see the look in Grantaire's eyes, pleased to be reassured even as he's enjoying- and he is, he's getting off on it- pleasing Enjolras. Grantaire slides a few more inches down, and Enjolras hears him choke, but he doesn't pull away. Enjolras grabs his hair and slides him up, so he doesn't hurt himself.

"When I want you to choke on my cock, I'll tell you to do it," Enjolras hisses, shocked at the filth coming from his mouth. "Til then, don't go so far. I don't want you getting hurt."

Grantaire tries to nod. His eyes are on Enjolras, and he sucks obediently, using all the talent he has. He runs his tongue around the head of Enjolras' cock, licking up the steady drip of precum, and then pulls away to kiss the very tip almost reverently before sliding as far back down as Enjolras will allow him. 

Enjolras can’t help it, this is so good, too good, and he looks deep into Grantaire’s eyes, Grantaire on his knees, debased and happy before him, as he comes.


	12. Chapter 12

Enjolras nudges his boot between Grantaire’s legs, tapping gently at his cock. “You want to come, slut?”

“Yes, sir, please, please let me—“ Grantaire thrusts against the boot lightly, unsure if he’s allowed.

“Fucking whore. Rubbing against my foot like an animal.”

Grantaire moans, removing Enjolras’ doubt over whether or not those things are okay to say. “Please, sir, say I can, please-“

“Since you were so good, you can come here. Sit in my lap.”

“Yes, thank you—“ Enjolras reaches down to help Grantaire up and Grantaire presses his lips to Enjolras’ fingers, kissing gently, as he’s pulled up onto Enjolras’ lap. Enjolras works his fingers around Grantaire’s cock, stroking lightly. “Sir, you don’t—you don’t have to, I can—“

“I know I don’t have to. You’re mine, I don’t have to do a thing I don’t want to. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But I do want to. I want to see you come, and I want to be the one that did it to you. I want to feel you gasping and moaning in my hand, grateful for my touch. Are you going to give it to me?”

“Anything, anything you want—“

“What I want is for my boy to come for me. Now.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire murmurs, and spills into Enjolras’ touch without another word. He must have been so on the edge for so long. Enjolras feels a surge of pleasure at that, at the thought of his boy suffering so uncomplainingly and all for him.

Anything for him.

Enjolras lifts his hand to Grantaire’s mouth. “Clean your mess up,” he orders, and Grantaire licks the come off his hand. Enjolras watches his pink tongue dart out from between his lips, amazed and awed.

This is his. For as long as he wants it. Which is, realistically speaking, forever. 

He doesn’t have to feel guilty. He doesn’t have to deny himself. He knows Grantaire won’t let him go too far, could never keep his mouth shut that long—and he knows Grantaire would never deny him anything he could safely give.

He is going to be so happy with this boy.

“I want to hold you for a little while,” Enjolras murmurs. “We’re going into the bedroom. Can you walk?”

“Yes, sir. I’m fine.”

His tone is a little spacy, though, so Enjolras wraps a hand around his waist, supporting him, as they walk. He puts Grantaire on the bed first, then lies down, tucking his body into the curve of Grantaire’s side. He wraps a protective, possessive arm around his boy.

“You did so well,” he whispers, his lips touching the shell of Grantaire’s ear.

“R-really?”

Enjolras should have done this sooner. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable his sweet boy is. “Yes, pet. You were perfect for me. Totally perfect.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you for being such a good boy. For doing whatever I asked. I’m so proud of you, and I’m so, so very pleased that you’re mine.”

Grantaire is blushing, hiding his face. “I—I am too. Sir. I wouldn’t want… wouldn’t want anything but this. Not ever. I’m so happy to be yours.”

“And you are. Totally, utterly mine. And I’m going to—Grantaire, I’m going to make you so happy. I’m probably going to make mistakes… I mean, this, today, this was the first time I’ve ever done a real scene with another person. And it went pretty well-“

“Swimmingly,” Grantaire murmurs, slightly dazed. 

“As you will. It went swimmingly. Next time might not. I might call you the wrong thing, I might hit too hard, it could happen. But I want to say… I trust you to stop me. If I’m doing wrong. If I’m hurting you. If I fuck this up, I know—I know you’ll pull me into line. Because that’s who you are, and I love that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And I promise I will always do my best. I will be careful with you. But not too careful,” he assures Grantaire. “I will try to take care of you—and that means using you the way you need to be used, but also looking after you.”

“Like this?”

Enjolras smiles and kisses his forehead. “Exactly like this.”

“Good. Cause this is nice.”

“I agree.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Grantaire says again. “For takin’ care of me.”

“Anything you need.” Enjolras pets his hair. “My dearest one. My own.”


	13. Chapter 13

Enjolras lets him lie safe and still in his arms for some time—another hour or so. He expects to get bored. He’s never one to sit around, not usually anyway.

But he can’t imagine doing anything more important than holding Grantaire close. The boy’s face is pressed into his neck, his breaths deep and slow, his eyes closed.

Enjolras pets his hair softly. He’s not quite asleep, he murmurs a little in response when Enjolras says his name, but he’s not exactly awake either.

“R?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Time to go, pet.”

“But sir…” he grumbles.

“Do you need me to stay here and take care of you?”

“N…no sir, I’m okay…”

“Then no whining. I said we were going to meet our friends, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Enjolras doesn’t like the resigned tone in his voice. “Do you not want to? Is that what this is about? Grantaire, like I said, if you don’t want to tell them, they don’t have to know.”

“It’s not… it’s just…”

“What?”

“What if… what if they don’t think…”

“Tell me.”

“What if they don’t think I’m good enough for you?”

Enjolras tugs sharply on Grantaire’s hair, forcing Grantaire to look up at him. “Stop that,” he orders. “The next you start thinking that way about yourself, you must tell me. Keep it from me again and you’re going to be punished. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re mine and I’m honored that you are. I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks, even my friends. And I’m sure they’ll be delighted.”

“If… if you say so.”

“I do.” Enjolras kisses him gently. “Come on, out of bed.”

Grantaire does, stumbling obediently to his feet. He dresses quickly, combing through his hair with his fingers, trying to make it look just slightly less like he’s just been pulled around by it and petted. Enjolras straightens himself out as well, donning his favorite red jacket, and taking Grantaire’s hand.

“You sure?” he asks one more time.

“Yeah. I am.” He bites his lip. “If they don’t… it’s okay? You still want…”

“I want to be with you,” Enjolras reassures him. “No matter what anyone else thinks. I mean that.”

“Thank you. Sir.”

Enjolras smiles. “Come on, then.”

“Yes, sir.” Hand in hand, they walk the few blocks to the Musain. They tramp up the stairs together, wordless, and throw open the door.

The others are already gathered around. Combeferre is going over an expense report, Bahorel and Feuilly are drinking, all seems more or less as usual.

A silence falls when Enjolras walks in. Grantaire blushes, brightly, and fights the urge to bury his head in his master’s shoulder. Enjolras squeezes his fingers, and leans over, whispering “Good boy” into his ear.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says.

“Hi,” Courfreyrac says dumbly. “Is this-“

“Oh, R, your dream’s come true! Finally Enjolras’ bitch!” Bahorel says, drunk and cheerful. He doesn’t mean any harm by it, Grantaire knows, but he can’t help the way the words make him flinch.

Enjolras’ arm snakes around his waist, pulling him close. “Stop that,” Enjolras says to Bahorel firmly. “Don’t speak to him that way.”

“Only you get to do that?”

“Correct.” Enjolras’ tone doesn’t exactly invite a lot of disagreement.

“So you bought Grantaire?” Marius exclaims, dumbfounded. “I thought there was supposed to be an investigation.”

“There was a change of plans. Besides, Grantaire was there, like the others. He can tell me anything another sub at that auction could have.” 

“So,” Combeferre begins, “what is there to tell?”

“N-not much,” Grantaire begins, a little uncertain. He’s never been in the center of the group’s attention before, generally limiting his input to shouted mockery, and Enjolras’ eyes are on him, burningly intense. “They were very kind to me. Of course, I was there voluntarily.”

“But why?” Courfreyrac asks. “I didn’t even know you were a sub.”

“You could have told me, surely,” Jehan says, his eyes bright. “You didn’t imagine we would think less of you—“

“I- I’m sorry, I—“ He’s freezing up. He’s freezing up, and it’s pathetic, everyone is staring at him, everyone is judging him. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to tell them all. Why he was there—it’s pathetic, it’s pitiful, selling himself because he knew he’d never be good enough, never really be wanted, and he can’t say it, and they’re all waiting, all looking at him. And he wasn’t what they expected, didn’t live up, could never live up, because he was supposed to be a stranger, someone suitable, someone who could solve their mystery, it wasn’t supposed to be him, Grantaire, bitter and cynical and ugly, here on Enjolras’ arm, he was never good enough, never will be—

Suddenly, he’s practically enveloped by warmth. He recognizes the familiar smell of Enjolras’ body, his face tight against his Apollo’s chest, before he registers the fact that Enjolras is holding him close and comforting him. 

Jehan is babbling out an apology—“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, oh, R—“ but Grantaire can hardly hear him.

He’s crying. Fuck, he’s crying in front of everyone, he’s well and truly panicked now, he’s fucked it all up, ruined everything, because doesn’t he always—

Enjolras is leading him into the room in the back, a little away from the others’ eyes, with a firm hand on the small of Grantaire’s back. He slams the door shut behind him and grips Grantaire’s chin hard. “Talk,” he orders.

Grantaire flinches and whispers, “I’m sorry,” but that’s all he can say before the tears overtake him again.

Enjolras sighs, wrapping his arms around Grantaire. “No, I am. And I’m sorry I snapped at you, pet. I’m just concerned. Are you going to be all right?”

“Y-yes sir. Sorry I’m… such a mess.”

“Shh. Don’t apologize. I think you may still be feeling a little vulnerable after our scene earlier. Is that possible?”

Grantaire blinks away some of the tears. He hadn’t really conisdered it—it seemed like Enjolras had practically lavished him in aftercare. But he does feel the same shakiness he had when on his knees right afterwards. “I- maybe, I just- I don’t…”

“Okay. Okay.” Enjolras rocks him back and forth a little. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I didn’t- I embarrassed you, in front of everyone, I’m not, I don’t-“

“You’re a very good boy, and you do deserve to be mine, if that’s what you’re thinking. They were out of line, R. They totally overwhelmed you and you have a right to be upset. There’s been a huge, sudden change, everything is different, and you’ve had to let go of your coping mechanisms—sarcasm and alchohol. Well, the former may make a reappearance at some point, but what I’m trying to say is—I’ve made you vulnerable. I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing, just a true one, but—You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a thing.”

“You aren’t--- you must be—“

“What, pet?” Enjolras asks, ever so gently.

“Disappointed. I’m not what they expected. Not what you deserve.”

Enjolras sighs and pulls Grantaire away so he can kiss his forehead softly. “Not with you. Never, ever disappointed in you. I can see how much the idea frightens you, and I can tell you—never. You are everything I want and need. I don’t wish for anything more.” Enjolras leans down to kiss his lips. “It was irresponsible of me not to insist you stay home. I could tell you were still not completely out of your submissive headspace.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “Must you talk like an encyclopedia?”

Enjolras laughs. “See, that’s more like it. Still, I ought to get you home.”

“No, I can—I can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

Grantaire smiles, the last of his tears drying. “Yes, sir.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the terrible political stuff in this chapter which I literally made up off the top of my head so we could get back to the D/s fun sooner.

Enjolras holds Grantaire’s hand tightly. “If they start talking to you that way again, we are leaving,” Enjolras warns. 

“Yes, sir.”

Enjolras opens the door and they are immediately assaulted by an armful of Jean Prouvaire launching himself at them. “I am so sorry, Grantaire, I can’t believe we said those things, will you ever forgive me—“

Grantaire pats Jehan’s back tentatively. “I—it’s all right, Jehan.”

“Sorry,” Bahorel says, red-faced, and Marius looks at the ground, embarassed. 

Courfreyrac offers to buy him a drink. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Can I?” Grantaire asks Enjolras, and Enjolras nods. Grantaire hesitates, expecting the others to make fun of him, if gently, for the fact that he has to ask permission—and it’s not that Enjolras asked him to or would even expect it, he just didn’t feel right—but no one says a word. Courfreyrac slides a full glass of wine over to Grantaire, who takes it and a deep drink. It’s the first drink he’s had in several days, and it tastes good—just not as necessary as it used to. Now that he’s known the heat of Enjolras’ touch, there’s no drunkenness in the world that could compare.

Enjolras keeps a hand on him through the meeting, touching his leg, his knee, his back. Never, for even a second, is Grantaire seperated from him. It’s a little hard to focus, but he endeavors. They’re talking about the underrepresentation of women in government.

“To be fair,” Grantaire interrupts, mid-Enjolras’-speech, “You are all, more or less, the government. I mean, democratic elections, bla bla bla, but the real power sits in this room, as uncomfortable as you may be with that. And in this room, to the best of my knowledge, everyone has a dick.”

“Technically we’re a supervisory subcommittee—“ Combeferre says. 

“Yes, yes. I’m aware of the technicalities. However, in reality, you supervise whatever you’d like. Your power is—“

“Under strict constitutional controls,” Enjolras tells him.

“That doesn’t make it less real,” Grantaire points out, and Enjolras smiles at him, just a little, as he always has in these moments. He knows—he’s always known—that Enjolras secretly enjoys having his ideas challenged. 

“The consent of the people is exactly what makes power real. We are given a certain amount of it, and no more.”

“But the fundamental point stands that there is an imbalance of gender represented,” Combeferre diverts, helpful as always. 

Jehan starts taking down a list of potential solutions as Enjolras reaches under the table, tracing his fingertips along Grantaire’s arm, a wordless reward. 

The meeting lasts about an hour. Afterwards, a round of drinks is procured for everyone (except Enjolras), and they sit around and talk, as always.

This evening, the subject of gossip is Grantaire.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jehan stresses gently. “I’m sorry we made you uncomfortable earlier, and obviously there’s no need to answer any questions you don’t want to. But—why?”

“Jehan-“ Enjolras begins, a note of warning in his voice, but Grantaire waves him off.

“I wanted to find someone. Especially if your secret cabal of government power is going to start shutting the auction houses down,” Grantaire teases. “It’s as simple as that.” He chooses not to delve into the bone deep insecurities, the desperate fear of not being enough. 

“And in that place, they treated you well?” Feuilly enquires.

“Very well. They taught me a whole lot of dirty sexy tricks, which none of you will ever know, and I had a grand time.”

“Plus, it worked out rather well in the end,” Enjolras points out. “At least, it did for me. Now, Courfreyrac, how are things going with…”

“Éponine,” Courfreyrac finishes. “She’s well. A bit nervous, still. Flinchy. Doesn’t like sudden noises. But she’s a bright girl, a sweet one, and she’ll recover, I’m confident. I was hoping to bring her to a meeting soon—perhaps she could provide that woman’s perspective we were just talking about.”

“Wonderful,” Enjolras says, rather clearly pronouncing the subject of his own relationship with Grantaire firmly closed, and turns to Marius. “And the girl you were—“

“Cosette,” Marius says, blushing, clearly having spent most of the meeting waiting for an excuse to bring her up. “She’s—I found her. She lives with her father, not far from here. And she’s agreed to go out to dinner with me. I’m so nervous, though, I don’t know—“

Jehan immediately begins giving Marius advice on the most romantic restaurants, Courfreyrac starts teasingly delivering a birds and the bees talk, and Enjolras squeeze Grantaire’s shoulder.

Grantaire grins up at him, recognizing the distraction for what it is.

“Should we sneak out, before we start getting interrogated again?” Enjolras suggests, a rare hint of teasing in his voice.

“Exactly what I was thinking.”


	15. Chapter 15

“I want you to do something for me, R,” Enjolras says a few days later, once they’ve settled into something of a routine.

“Yes?” Grantaire is at his feet, sketching a plan for a new painting, but he puts his work aside the moment his dom addresses him.

“Tell me a fantasy you’re ashamed of. And then I will do the same.”

Grantaire’s face flushes and his eyes lower. Enjolras reaches down, touching his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back upwards. “Sir-“

“You don’t have to,” Enjolras assures him. “I just want to know. I want you to have the things you dream of.”

“I already do,” Grantaire says, smiling gently. “I thought—this would have been my filthiest fantasy. My most shameful. Burdening you with myself.”

“You know that isn’t—“

“I know. I know that isn’t how you feel.” Grantaire rests his head on Enjolras’ knee. “I guess you want the really dirty stuff, though, right?”

“I was thinking something rather more sexual than kneeling at my feet while I pet you, yes. Not that this isn’t lovely, and very much worthy a fantasy or two.” Enjolras tugs at his hair in between pets.

“Mm. Can’t think when you do that.”

“Then I will just have to stop until-“ Enjolras begins, but Grantaire leans up, taking the tips of Enjolras’ fingers into his mouth and sucking, and then he can’t pretend to protest anymore. “Slut.”

“Oh, right!” Grantaire says brightly. “That was the thing. I was going to ask. Um. So sometimes you like semi-jokingly call me a slut and I was hoping you could do that sort of seriously and maybe say some other things too during sex.”

“What kind of things?”

Grantaire tries to hide his face again, but Enjolras won’t let him. “Tell me that I’m not good enough for you. That I’m a worthless slut. Make me beg to touch you. Beg to come.”

“Is that safe for you? Emotionally, I mean?”

“You’re not judging me?” Grantaire asks, almost surprised. 

“Not at all, pet. I don’t pretend to understand, but I’m the one who asked. And it’s something I’m willing to do, if you don’t think it will genuinely upset you.”

“It might,” Grantaire admits. “That’s what makes it a fantasy, not a reality.”

“I could try some more talking during sex, if you’d like. I’ll stay away from the heavier stuff for now.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire says, and then grins up at him, all trace of his blush leaving his face. “Your turn.”

Enjolras smiles ruefully. “Do I-“

“You know you suggested this because you want to try something you’re embarassed about, don’t even try to hide it.”

“Okay. Yes.” Enjolras sighs. “You don’t have to agree.”

“I know.”

“And if you do you can always change your mind.”

“I know.”

“And if it frightens you I want you to tell me-“

“Enjolras, I am not nearly as good at the whole infinite-patience shpiel as you are, so please go ahead and spit it out.”

“I want to beat you,” Enjolras says. “With something. A belt, maybe a whip. I want to hurt you—and I mean really hurt you, not pinch your nipple while I get you off or pull your hair. I want to make you cry.” Enjolras shifts a little, like his instincts are telling him to get away, like he’s ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“So do you want me to start begging now, or—“

“What?”

“Enjolras, I told you there was nothing deviant in what you want. I know it is hard for you to concede this. I know how passionate your beliefs are. So let me be the one to say—I want that. I like pain. It feels good to me, I get off on it. Some kinds of pain. Beating pain is good pain, especially from a belt. If you wanted to start sticking needles in me, you’d have to ask pretty damn nicely. Cause that shit hurts. But I am more than happy to be beaten. Especially by you. Especially if it’s because you want to. So like I said. Should I start begging?”

“No,” Enjolras says, breathless. “No, you don’t have to. Come here.” He helps Grantaire up, pulling the boy into his lap. He kisses Grantaire fiercely, possessively. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Truly.”

“You remember your safeword.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “Of course I do.”

“Good boy. Go into the kitchen and bend over the table. Naked.”

“Yes, sir.” Grantaire goes, trotting off obediently. Enjolras takes a few calming breaths and follows him. Grantaire has stripped his clothes off very efficiently and is naked and bent over. Enjolras approaches him, kissing the small of his back tenderly.

“Going to hurt you,” Enjolras tells him. “Going to make you scream for me. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Master. Please.”

“Good boy. Stop me if you want me to stop. That’s an order, R. I’m not punishing you, and I will not have you suffering through something like this for my pleasure.”

“Yes, sir.”

Enjolras weighs his tone and decides he’s being honest. Then he takes his belt off, slowly. The leather is worn and soft, and Enjolras has practiced with this one, back in his training course. He holds it in his left hand, bringing his right down against Grantaire’s ass. The other man jumps. “Going to warm you up,” Enjolras murmurs. “Get you ready to take my belt.”

“Whatever you want,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras can’t help the thrill that gives him. He slaps Grantaire hard, a few times, til his skin begins to turn just slightly pink. Enjolras’ hand is a little sore, Grantaire’s skin a little warm.

“Do you need a set number?”

“No, sir. You can… you can hit me as much as you want.’

“Can I make you cry?” Enjolras regrets the words almost as soon as he speaks them. What kind of man—

“Yes, Master.”

“Perfect boy,” Enjolras whispers, heart swelling with affection, and raises his belt. He brings it down, not hard, just testing. Grantaire flinches before it touches him, but when the leather meets his skin he relaxes—goes almost limp. Waiting, unresisting, uncomplaining.

Enjolras brings the belt down harder. It cracks in the air this time, making an audible sound before it slaps against Grantaire. Grantaire cries out, a choked-off moaning sound. 

“How did that feel? Too much?”

“No. Feels good.”

Enjolras repeats the stroke, the same intensity and speed, four times exactly. When he pauses, Grantaire is gasping for breath, almost whimpering. Enjolras puts a hand on his skin, feeling the heat, rubbing it soothingly. Grantaire relaxes again. “This time, I’m going to try and mark you,” Enjolras says. “I want to see my touch on your skin.”

Grantaire nods eagerly, pushing his hips back to give Enjolras a better angle. Enjolras hits him, not quite with all his strength, but hard. The belt makes a loud crack against his skin, and a red line blooms in its wake. Grantaire trembles visibly, and Enjolras does it again, and again, harder each time, almost furious. Grantaire tries to pull away, instinctively, and Enjolras growls and pins his hands to the table, his knee pushing Grantaire’s hips square to the edge.

“Stay still,” he commands, voice low.

“Sorry, sorry sir-“

Enjolras lets go of his hands, drawing back to hit him again, at perhaps half-strength. He brings the belt down again and again, covering Grantaire’s ass with the marks in neat, even lines. Grantaire is gasping repeatedly, like he can’t quite get a breath. He doesn’t try to pull away again, just holds himself in place, clinging to the sides of the table, and lets Enjolras hurt him. 

When Grantaire’s ass is quite evenly covered in red marks, Enjolras lets him have another break. He intends to start again after a little bit, but Grantaire turns around, assuming they’re finished, and more or less throws himself into Enjolras’ chest. He’s sobbing, tears running down his face, and he clings desperately to Enjolras’ waist as Enjolras’ arms surround him. “Good boy,” Enjolras says, leaning down to kiss Grantaire’s forehead as his heart fills with regret. He draws the sobbing boy into his arms and holds him close. “It’s all right, R. I’m here. I’ve got you.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Master?” Grantaire whispers, his voice shaking and small. “Are- are you going to-“

“What?” Enjolras enquires, voice gentle even as his heart is full of apprehension. Grantaire is afraid of him. He knew he should never have let himself try this, that he can’t possibly be trusted with something like this, with Grantaire’s trust and body and heart.

“Fuck me?” Grantaire asks, still so quiet, and Enjolras is abruptly aware that he’s still hard, his erection pressing into Grantaire’s naked stomach through his pants.

“No, pet. Not right now.”

“Why not?”

“I want to take my time with you when we do that.” Enjolras kisses his forehead, hands stroking Grantaire’s back, careful not to brush the marks. “And right now I don’t think you’re in a fit state to be consenting to new and different kind of sex.”

“Okay,” Grantaire agrees, so fucking passive, so totally submissive, and Enjolras can’t believe he let himself take advantage of Grantaire’s trust in him, his need for him. 

“Come on. Let me take care of you, beautiful.”

“Sir, I—“

“Come on. I want to get you into bed.”

“Yes, sir.” He leans on Enjolras willingly, letting Enjolras practically carry him into their bed. He settles on his stomach, face turned to the side, and Enjolras pulls Grantaire’s head onto his lap. Grantaire presses a kiss to Enjolras’ clothed erection, strangely chaste, but doesn’t do anything else, not without permission. Enjolras pets his hair, soothing, soft, oh so gentle.

He can’t speak of the crushing guilt he feels to Grantaire, not right now. He’ll apologize later, will do everything he can to make it right, will talk until Grantaire is sick of hearing about what he did wrong. But right now he can’t burden Grantaire with his feelings. He has to hold on to them himself. Right now Grantaire is submissive and vulnerable and needs to be taken care of physically and emotionally.

“Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

Grantaire turns his face into Enjolras’ hip, hiding his expression. “Did I do okay? I mean, did you like it? I didn’t mean to pull away, I couldn’t help it-“

“You were wonderful,” Enjolras assures him.

“But did you like it?”

“Very much,” Enjolras confesses, his voice choked. He got off on it. Until he finished, he was practically maddened by it. He would have kept right on beating Grantaire, hitting him while he cried, til he bled. He wanted to see his blood, red over the blackening bruises. The thought still makes his cock twitch, even as guilt overwhelms him.

Grantaire looks up on him, anxiety written all across his face. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect.” 

Grantaire smiles at that, but doesn’t let the subject drop. “You’re acting like something is wrong. If you’re mad at me, you have to tell me. You don’t just get to act… you know. Weird. I can’t deal with it. Not right now. Please tell me the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras bursts out. “Grantaire, I’m so sorry. I should never have brought this up. I know—I went way too far. It was selfish and awful and—I hurt you.”

“That was sort of the point,” Grantaire says, smiling wryly.

“R?”

“I have a safeword, and I’m not afraid to use it. Enjolras, if I wanted you to stop, I would have stopped you.” His voice isn’t spacy anymore—he sounds dead serious and totally confident. “Don’t worry, okay? You don’t have to worry with me. I’m not going to break.”

“Are you sure-“

“Completely.” Grantaire nuzzles into Enjolras’ lap. “I trust you not to hurt me. You need to trust me to stop you if you go too far.”

Enjolras sighs, reaching down to pet Grantaire’s hair. “It’s just—I know how much this means to you.”

“How much you mean to me,” Grantaire corrects.

“Yes,” Enjolras agrees. “And I have power over you. That’s the reality of our situation. I own you. I could hurt you, really hurt you, and you could let me.”

“But I wouldn’t,” Grantaire says. “What I want is to please you. It’s all I want. And I know I wouldn’t be doing that by letting you go too far.” 

Enjolras pulls Grantaire up and into his arms, pinning the boy against his chest and holding him hard. “You are perfect,” he whispers fiercely. “Perfect for me. I am so glad you’re mine.”

“I am,” Grantaire promises. “All of me. And I’m going to do what you want. So you can relax with me. This can be the easy thing in your life—being with me, having me.”

Enjolras kisses his forehead. “Thank you, darling. You said exactly the right thing.”

“You believe me?”

“Yes.” Enjolras strokes Grantaire’s hair. “I will… it’s going to take a long time to get over the sense that… that there’s something wrong with me, for what I want. Because I do feel that way. I’ve always hated the side of myself that wanted to be dominant, that wanted to cause pain. This is the first time in my life I haven’t had to feel that crushing guilt, and I’m so grateful for that. To you for giving me that. And I’m so sorry you had to reassure me, now, when I ought to be taking care of you.”

“It’s a mutaul thing,” Grantaire says. “We can take care of each other. Or did you miss the lesson on aftercare for doms?”

“I-“ Enjolras bites his lip. “I had forgotten.” He feels so helpless sometimes. He has no idea what he’s doing, not really, and the stakes are so high. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Grantaire says, reassuring him.

“You’re so much more than okay,” Enjolras replies. “You’re so good. You’re dearer than the whole world to me.”

Grantaire hums happily, borrowing into Enjolras’ shoulder. “Thank you, sir. And…”

“Yes?”

“I would… I liked it. When you hit me. If you don’t mind, I’d like it if you’d do it again someday.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. Trust me.” 

“I do.”

“And I trust you. With everything.” With that, Grantaire closes his eyes.

“I know. And nothing is more dear to me,” Enjolras says, not even sure if Grantaire is still awake. “I don’t regret my fears. Because I have to be careful with you. I love that—love taking care of you.”

“And I love you,” Grantaire murmurs, sleepily.

Enjolras’ hand tightens in Grantaire’s hair, his heart flooding with a feeling he can’t put word to. It might be love, he can’t be certain, and he can’t answer until he is. “I know. I’ve known all along.”

“You’re not mad?” Grantaire says, totally exposed, a strange innocence creeping into his tone as he falls asleep.

“Of course not.” Enjolras squeezes the back of his neck, tracing the teporary collar around his throat. “I’ll take care of you. Your heart no less than anything else.”


	17. Chapter 17

When Grantaire wakes up in the morning, the panic Enjolras had half-expected has set in. Luckily, Enjolras’ own anxiety has completely resolved, and he can be his rational self.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Grantaire begins.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Forget it.”

Enjolras drops the book he’d been holding and rushes back to the bed. He grabs Grantaire’s wrists, pins them to either side of his head, and kisses him hard. “I won’t.”

“Enjolras—“

“You are mine. Heart and body.”

“Yes. Yes, sir. Please.”

If distracting Grantaire with sex is the method that works best, Enjolras is completely, one hundred per cent comfortable with that. “I want to see you come,” Enjolras orders. “Take off your pants and touch yourself. Get yourself off.”

“Are you going to-“

“No. I’m going to watch.”

Grantaire swallows heavily, hesitating.

“Something wrong?” Enjolras asks, his voice carefully gentle.

“I don’t—I want to. To do what you say. But.”

“Yes?”

“I know you don’t like it when I don’t feel good about myself.”

“But I like it even less when you try to hide that. Grantaire, you have to be honest with me or I can’t take care of you.”

“I just… I just don’t…” Grantaire looks down. “I’m uncomfortable- not ‘won’t do it’ uncomfortable, but ‘should probably honestly express my reservations’ uncomfortable- with the idea of doing stuff to myself while you watch. While I’m naked. And you’re not.”

“Why is that?” Grantaire’s insecurities are a confusing beast, and Enjolras hasn’t quite worked out all their intricacies.

“Because you’re beautiful and I’m ugly.” He says it so matter-of-factly, and it breaks Enjolras’ heart. “I know you don’t like to hear it, but it’s true. And I swear one of these days you’re going to see it, and then you’re going to decide you want something better than me.”

“Never,” Enjolras says, voice tight and intense. “You are mine. Nothing will change that. Besides, what part of you do you think I haven’t seen?”

“I know. It’s stupid. I just—“

“You are desirable- you are perfect- the way you are. I want you. I want to look at you because I think you are incredible, I think the way you look when you came for me was the most amazing thing and I want to watch you do that again and again, right now, until you’re so strung out from pleasure you beg me to stop, til you can’t come any more.” Grantaire swallows hard and Enjolras grins. “Or would you rather hide your perfect body from me?”

“I’m not perfect,” Grantaire insists. “I wish you wouldn’t say that I am, because that just means I’m going to disappoint you someday. But I do want you to have me. However you want me. I’m yours.”

“You’re mine,” Enjolras echoes. “Now take off your clothes. I want to see you.”

Reluctantly but quickly, Grantaire obeys.

“Good boy,” Enjolras says. “Touch yourself.”

Grantaire does as he’s told, taking himself in hand and very slowly starting to stroke his dick. 

“Look at me,” Enjolras orders, and Grantaire’s eyes lock onto his face. Enjolras hopes Grantaire can see it, can see the open desire written on his face, the lust and want, the pride in having someone as strong, as good, as perfect as Grantaire spread out at his command. “Good boy. Fast. Make yourself come.”

Grantaire does as he’s told, speeding up his strokes. Enjolras watches him eagerly, his eyes lingering on Grantaire’s chest, his stomach, the long expanse of his legs. 

“Does your back hurt?” Enjolras asks, suddenly terribly curious.

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire hisses out, as his hand works furiously.

“How badly?”

“I can definitely feel it, sir.”

“And what do you think about that?”

“Like that. Like hurting for you. Being yours.”

“You are. Every perfect inch of you.” Enjolras leans down and kisses Grantaire, biting his lower lip hard. He swallows up the gasp Grantaire makes as he comes. “Good boy. You can have a minute to recover.”

“A- a minute?”

“We’re just getting started.” Enjolras ruffles his hair fondly. “I was thinking I could spank you. Just with my hand. Get your ass red and sore for me. Would you get hard again for that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I’ll make you touch yourself again. And then I’ll let you suck me off.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How many times do you think you can come for me this morning?”

Grantaire hesitates. “Counting that last one? I don’t know. Four?”

“Let’s try for six.”

Grantaire bites his lip. “Okay. Will you- if I can’t-“

“It’s okay,” Enjolras promises. “This is for fun, R. It’s sex, not life and death. If you can’t, we’ll just stop. What I really want is to see you blissed out and desperate, and I think I’m going to get that.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“What you said last night-“

Grantaire freezes, frightened. Enjolras kisses his forehead.

“You could say it again. If you want.”

Grantaire hesitates, and a slow, soft smile spreads across his face. Tentatively, he says, “I love you,” and Enjolras smiles back and kisses him hard.


	18. Chapter 18

“Now. Over my lap.”

Grantaire is only too willing to obey, climbing into place eagerly. Enjolras runs his hand tenderly over the soft skin of his ass, touching the marks he’d left the day before. The bruises are bluish, not too dark, and in even, clear lines. 

“Does it hurt when I touch?”

“Yes, sir. Feels good.”

“I left marks all over your ass. You look beautiful like this. I wish I could always keep you this way.”

“Me too,” Grantaire says, blushing again, and Enjolras’ hand lands hard on his ass. He bites back a little moan.

“Give me a scale of one to ten, one being not at all and ten being me whipping you, how much did that hurt?”

“Four, sir.”

“Good boy.” Enjolras gives him two more, just a little harder. “And those?”

“Six.”

“Thank you, Grantaire. I’m going to keep it right there. Right at a six, maybe a few fives and maybe a few sevens, but no harder. And you’re going to take it for as long as you can. You’re allowed to rub against me all you want, and I want to make you come like this.”

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire says, his voice gone breathy.

“But you understand, R, that if you can’t, or if it hurts too much, especially over those old bruises, let me know. I am happy to dial it down a little, or stop. And we can stop this particular activity without putting a halt to the whole plan. I’m not in it to hurt you… at least not this morning. I just want to see you driven as wild as possible with pleasure.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s a good boy.” Enjolras continues spanking him. He gives Grantaire five, nice and even, all over the center of his ass where the bruising from the belt is a little lighter, before Grantaire starts to move against him. 

He’s still only half-hard, not quite recovered from the earlier orgasm, but Enjolras can feel as he gets there. Enjolras pauses in the spanking to rub a hand over Grantaire’s skin, feeling the warmth, the tenderness in the skin where there’s bruising.

Then he starts hitting again, taking up the same even rhythm, and Grantaire is thrusting, rubbing himself mindlessly into Enjolras’ lap. Enjolras hits hard and steady, and Grantaire seems almost soothed by the rhythm.

He wants to try something else, to give Grantaire what he’d asked for. He’s a little tentative. He doesn’t want to hurt this boy, not now in his beautiful moment of vulnerability and frankly not ever.

But he also wants to give Grantaire so much pleasure, all he can ask for and more, and sometimes that requires a little risk.

“Look at you,” Enjolras murmurs, bringing his hand down a little softer as he speaks. “Rubbing against me like an animal.”

Grantaire moans, choked-off and shamed but still obviously aroused, so Enjolras continues.

“You’re such a desperate whore for me, aren’t you? I just let you come and you’re already so needy.”

Grantaire tries to stop himself from thrusting, and Enjolras gives him a few especially fast slaps.

“It’s perfect. I love seeing how much you want this. You are such a slut, my R, but only for me. Every part of you mine, in every way. You’d let me do whatever I want from you. You’ll come now, for me, just from me hurting you.”

Grantaire nods desperately, and Enjolras cards his fingers through his hair as he gives him a few more quick slaps. Grantaire falls back into the rhythm, thrusting mindlessly, truly desperate now. Enjolras soothes him with one hand and beats him with the other, leaving him torn, needy.

“Perfect whore,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire thrusts into his lap and comes. Enjolras continues spanking him, keeping up the rhythm until Grantaire is limp and exhausted, lying beneath him, and his ass is a bright, even red. He gives Grantaire a moment to recover, easing him onto his knees so he can do so. “All right?” he asks gently.

“Yes, sir.”

“How was the talking? Not too much?”

“It was great. You kinda mixed in some… some nice stuff, with the… I liked it. Really worked for me.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He pets Grantaire’s hair tenderly. “Now, I think it’s my turn to come. I want you to suck me off, but you have to touch yourself while you do. I want you to come again before I do.”

Grantaire hesitates. “Can I have another minute, sir? I’m kinda sensitive.”

Enjolras smiles at him. “Of course. Take as long as you need. You okay kneeling there?”

“I’m great.”

“So you are. You’re perfect.”


	19. Chapter 19

Enjolras pets Grantaire’s hair, soothing and gentle, like Grantaire is a beloved dog. Grantaire doesn’t exactly shatter this illusion, nuzzling eagerly into Enjolras’ hand.

“Ready, sir,” he murmurs.

“Good. You can go ahead.” Enjolras weaves his fingers tighter in Grantaire’s hair, easing his head forward. Grantaire takes Enjolras’ cock between his lips, his mouth sliding down. Enjolras guides him down, but no farther than he can comfortably go. “Good boy,” he praises, sensing that Grantaire needs his tenderness at this moment.

Grantaire sighs, fingers wrapping around his own cock as he starts to stir again, aroused by Enjolras’ praise. There’s very little hotter than the knowledge that he has such an effect on the other man for Enjolras, so he gives Grantaire a little more to go on.

“Your mouth feel so perfect. I wish I could keep you here forever, on your knees, between my legs. It’s where you belong, what you’re for. Pleasuring me, serving me, however I say, however I want you.”

Grantaire groans around Enjolras’ cock, going a little lower, sucking a little harder, as if to signify his approval for the words.

“You want this so much, don’t you? You love being mine, being allowed to serve me like this… or any way I want.”

Grantaire looks up at Enjolras, so much feeling in his eyes, and Enjolras gasps as he sees it. He can see Grantaire’s devotion, his absolute love. Grantaire takes so much pleasure in serving him like this, and it goes so far beyond the sexual.

Grantaire would really, truly, do anything for him. Anything at all. He’d follow Enjolras to the ends of the earth with a smile on his face.

Enjolras understands why that’s moving, why that’s stirring his heart, but it probably shouldn’t be turning him on.

It is, though. Grantaire’s devotion is so incredibly hot. It’s erotic like nothing else can be. 

He tangles his fingers in Grantaire’s hair a little harder, yanks at the long locks enough to hurt.

“Such a pretty cocksucker,” he praises, and Grantaire moans and goes lower, eyes fluttering closed as he gags just a little. “I want you to come with my dick in your mouth. I want you to get off on serving me.”

Grantaire’s eyes fill a little with tears as he tries to nod. Enjolras can see the nervousness on his face, the exhaustion starting to seep in. It must hurt to touch himself now, and he isn’t even nearly done. Enjolras is going to do so many more things to him before he’s allowed to rest. He’s going to use Grantaire over and over until he’s desperate and broken down, this time with pleasure and not pain, and then he’s going to take such good care of him, going to put every piece of him back together so carefully.

Enjolras watches Grantaire’s face as he touches himself. Flickers of pain pass his face whenever he strokes particularly hard, but he never stops his pattern of sucking, hard and then lighter with strokes of his tongue and then hard again. He wants to obey orders, that much is clear, but his real attention is focused on pleasing Enjolras.

Enjolras allows himself to wonder how Grantaire would react to being whipped while he did this, or while he shined Enjolras’ boots. How he would balance the pain and the service. There’s something delightfully cruel about it, as there is about this. Grantaire is so devoted to being good, to pleasing him, and in return Enjolras is making him hurt himself with the relentless stroking on his over-sensitive cock.

And yet Grantaire doesn’t question it. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t fight or try to pull away or let his hand pause for even a second. He does this, does everything, because it’s what Enjolras wants.

It’s so amazing. It’s so perfect.

“Perfect boy,” Enjolras says aloud. “I love watching you like this. You’re so beautiful on your knees.”

Kneeling and sore, with Enjolras’ dick halfway down his throat, at least Grantaire can’t argue back about his appearance this time, Enjolras thinks, self-satisfied.

Grantaire nuzzles his head back into Enjolras’ hand, and Enjolras gets the idea. He starts to take a little more control, guiding Grantaire’s head back and forth. On one particularly hard slam down, when Grantaire chokes a little and his hair goes taut in Enjolras’ grip, he makes a whimpering noise. Enjolras is about to release him and apologize when he realizes that sound signifies Grantaire has just come, pushed over the edge by a few seconds of Enjolras brutally using his face, pushing his head around like a toy.

And that thought is too much for Enjolras to take. He pulls out and strokes himself a few times, coming all over Grantaire’s face. He wants his boy marked with come all over by the time they finish, his own and Enjolras’ alike, his desire and desperation written all over his body in streaks of white


	20. Chapter 20

Almost immediately, Enjolras hauls Grantaire up on his lap and starts stroking his soft cock. Grantaire cries out in pain, trying to buck away, but Enjolras pins his hips in place. 

He enjoys the feeling of Grantaire struggling against him. He’s exhausted already, and his attempts to get away are weak. Enjolras keeps him in place easily. 

“Sir, please,” he says, his voice broken and quiet.

“What’s that, slut?”

“It hurts,” he whimpers. Enjolras stills his hand for just a second.

“You remember the safeword?”

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire assures him, and Enjolras goes back to slowly stroking him.

“Then if you want me to stop, you say that. Otherwise, I get to do whatever I want to you. Isn’t that right?”

“It is. Sir.” Grantaire bites his lip, obviously trying not to fight or plead anymore.

“But you should feel free to beg all you want. Just know that it won’t do a thing.”

At that, Enjolras feels Grantaire’s dick start to stir just a little in his hand. He keeps up the stimulation, slow strokes that won’t cause him too much pain.

“Such a good boy,” Enjolras murmurs in his ear, then sucks the sensitive lobe between his teeth. It’s basically cheating—he knows how much of a hotspot that is for Grantaire, that he won’t be able to help his reaction. And, predictably, Grantaire gasps and his still-soft cock twitches. “Only two more, pet. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire whispers, sounding more or less miserable.

“You are usually so much more appreciative when I let you come,” Enjolras teases, and Grantaire groans. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“I’m… I’m getting kinda used to it. Just… overwhelming. Can’t…” Grantaire’s words break off into a strangled groan, and Enjolras smiles to himself. This is working exactly as he planned.

Enjolras had expected to be rather nervous about this—he doesn’t have a lot of experience, sexually, and so far most of what they’ve done has been letting Grantaire touch him, serve him, get him off, not the other way around. However, Grantaire is so wonderful, such a pliant, obedient sub, that everything comes naturally. He kisses down Grantaire’s neck, sinking his teeth into his shoulder. “Mine,” he growls, and Grantaire gets just a little harder.

“Sir,” Grantaire gasps again.

“You’re my boy, aren’t you? All mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I own this beautiful body.” He kisses behind Grantaire’s ear. “I own your sweet ass and your poor sore cock and I’m going to use you however I want.”

“Please,” Grantaire says, hard in Enjolras’ grasp now. “Please, please, I’m yours, I’m yours—“

“So good.” Enjolras tightens his fist just a little, and Grantaire sobs with a mix of pleasure and pain. He doesn’t even know which is which anymore. All he can focus on is Enjolras’ words. All he wants is to keep Enjolras talking, to do what Enjolras wants. “We’re so close to done. After this one, only two more. Does that sound good, pet?”

“Yes, sir, please, please sir—“ Grantaire doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, respite or more or something.

Enjolras’ arm around his waist stays tight and firm, holding him steady. He feels so safe in that grip, in the knowledge that no matter what Enjolras won’t let him go. 

And that he’s in Enjolras’ arms, wanted and possessed, his love accepted if not requited. This is more than he ever thought he would have from life, and it’s so good.

It’s just shy of everything he’s ever dreamed of and multiple orgasms too, and Grantaire doesn’t know how he’s supposed to deal with it all. He’s retreated under cynicism and alcohol for so many years, a barrier to protect him against the world, and now those things are gone and he’s unprotected under the scorching heat of Enjolras’ attention, Enjolras’ touch, Enjolras Enjolras Enjolras.

Everything is Enjolras, touching him, holding him, whispering filthy words in his ear.

“My good slut. So sweet and gorgeous. Still so eager for it, even after I’ve already made you come three times, even though it hurts.”

“I… I want… anything. From you. Anything,” Grantaire confesses, panting out the words against Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras tugs his fingers roughly through Grantaire’s hair.

“You are so perfect for me,” Enjolras says, his voice low. “Because this is what I need. I need to know that I’m not forcing you into anything. I need to know that you want this as much as I do. And you… you are always so good about making sure I know that. I’m grateful for that, Grantaire. I’m grateful for your place in my life. And I’m immensely, inutterably grateful for the gift of yourself that you give me.”

Grantaire is barely comprehending now, more or less lost in the slow drag of Enjolras’ fist up and down his erection and the tug of Enjolras’ fingers in his hair. The pleasure feels so good even though he’s tired of pleasure, the pain is just enough to sweeten it even as he wishes for a break from it all. Maybe Enjolras will let him have a break after this orgasm. That would be nice. But this is nice too. Just being in Enjolras’ arms, riding the slow wave of pleasure up with each stroke, breathing in the rhythm.

“You going to come for me?” Enjolras asks.

“T-tell me to?” Grantaire requests. 

“Such an obedient boy,” Enjolras praises, whispering the words right in his ear. “You’re so good for me. Come on, R, come. Again, all over my hand, like the good filthy slut you are.”

Grantaire, exhausted and sore as he is, instinctively obeys his master’s command.


	21. Chapter 21

“That’s my good boy,” Enjolras praises. “You’re doing so well. It’s so hot. You’re perfect.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire manages, though his mind can hardly make the words, he’s so overwhelmed and fucked-out and weary. “Enjolras, sir-“

“We’re almost done. More than halfway. Isn’t that nice?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I can’t. Enjolras, I can’t. Not…”

“Are you trying to use your safeword, pet?” Enjolras’ voice is careful and very gentle. “You know you can. I won’t be angry or disappointed.”

“No, I don’t- I can do it, I can-“

“You want to take a little break?”

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire agrees gratefully.

“Let’s talk,” Enjolras suggests, pulling Grantaire into his arms, letting the tired, trembling man lie against his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted. Sir. Good though.”

“Good. That’s what I want, you know. For you to feel good. Happy, and relaxed, and safe, and just… good things, for my good boy.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire manages.

“We don’t have to keep going. Do you want to stop?” Enjolras asks. 

“You can push me if you want. I don’t mind. I don’t mind things being a little hard so I can please you. I like that.” Grantaire does not feel his normal eloquence coming to him, but that’s all right. Enjolras won’t be mad. Enjolras will never be mad at him, not ever again. That was before Enjolras understood, and now he does, and Grantaire doesn’t have to pick fights with him to hide himself anymore, he can be honest and good and Enjolras will let him and take care of him and let Grantaire love him.

“Okay. You’d stop me if I went too far, though, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course. I know that’s what you want. Only want to do what you want,” Grantaire assures him.

“That’s my good boy.” Enjolras kisses his forehead.

“What… what else are you going to do to me?” Grantaire asks, half eager and half nervous.

“I was going to tie your hands to the bed and suck you off. I don’t know how good it’ll be, because I’ve never done it before, but I was going to try. And the last one’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“And then…”

“And then I was thinking we could curl up in bed together. I could put you to sleep and make you food and then go get some work done. Does that sound all right?”

“So this is your plan? Sexually exhaust me so you can go plan your revolution? Sneaky,” Grantaire teases, and Enjolras laughs and kisses him.

“You are wonderful, you know. And I care very much for you. I’m grateful that things worked out as they have, and that you’re mine now.”

“Enjolras-“ Grantaire says, wonderingly. 

“I am sorry that I didn’t always treat you well. I didn’t see the vulnerability in you, and that was my blindness and my mistake. I am lucky that you are able to trust me now.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire repeats, overwhelmed.

“You are beautiful and handsome and so incredibly hot. The things I want to do to you, to your strong body, to your perfect ass, to your pretty face… you’d think they were obscene, R, even after everything I’ve already done to you. I could just look at you for hours. I’m starting to understand the artist’s compulsion, although I’ll never have the skill you do. If I could draw, though, I’d draw you, just as you are now. Naked and sated and totally mine, willing to suffer under my hand for no reason other than my whim.”

“Um. Would this be a bad time to admit that I drew some dirty pictures of you in the bad old days?” Grantaire confesses.

“This would be a perfect time for that confession, since it would presently be unfair to make you get out of bed to go get them, show them to me, and jerk off looking at them while I watch.”

“But that’s the plan?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I have to say, in all the nightmares I had where you found my pictures of you, that was never what happened. I wonder if I should be embarassed that my masturbatory fantasies, which seemed at the time to be of near-infinite variety, can’t keep up with two weeks of having sex with virginal you.”

“You are a source of great inspiration,” Enjolras says.

“Sweet,” Grantaire teases, and Enjolras kisses him hard.

“You seem a little more coherent now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you feel ready to go again?”

“Now that you remind me of my dirty picture drawing days, I find I remind myself that the Grantaire of those days would gladly have strangled me for turning down the opportunity to have you give me a blowjob.” Grantaire smiles. “Yes, sir, you absolutely can tie me up and suck me off. Whatever you’d like, sir. My dick is at your command, to the best of its admittedly presently rather meager abilities.”

Enjolras smiles at him. “You are very funny. Even when you’re being crude.”

“Oh, I’m being crude, I’m not the one who’s trying to make me come so many times I spontaneously combu-“

Enjolras crushes his lips to Grantaire’s, pinning his arms down to the bed as he does so, and that’s the end of discussion, on that or any other subject.

It’s a dirty trick, but Enjolras always did like to win their arguments.


	22. Chapter 22

“Stay still,” Enjolras orders. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t move your arms.” Enjolras slides off the bed, grabbing a length of fabric, and moves back up to straddle Grantaire’s hips. He wraps the fabric around Grantaire’s wrists, tugging them so they are securely bound and he can’t move. Then he pulls the fabric back, tying another knot so the looped wrists are secured to the headboard. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” Grantaire mumbles, his voice starting to sound a little breathy.

“You look amazing tied up,” Enjolras says, and it’s true, but more than that he feels Grantaire needs the praise. He can see Grantaire spinning into subspace again, and he knows it’s a good thing, but he also knows he needs to help make sure it stays that way. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

Grantaire tries to say something, and Enjolras leans down and kisses him softly.

“You don’t have to talk, pet. You may, if you’d like to, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“Thanks, Apollo,” Grantaire answers, his voice soft and dreamy, and Enjolras smiles at him.

“You’re so beautiful like this. The most beautiful boy in the world.”

Grantaire doesn’t argue with him, for once. He must be too exhausted. Enjolras feels a twinge of guilt, but not much.

“Tell me how this feels. You know I’ve never done this before. And I want to make you feel good.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I assume I don’t need to remind you to be a good boy and lie still for me.”

“I will.”

“That’s my boy.” Enjolras kisses his hipbone, softly, and then lets his fingertips brush against Grantaire’s dick. He runs them back and forth, a light touch, and Grantaire starts to stir under it. Then he leans forward and kisses the base of Grantaire’s cock and feels as it starts to stiffen, as Grantaire groans.

“I- sir— Enjolras.”

Enjolras grins and licks a stripe up Grantaire’s cock. “Remember, pet, I want you to come just as soon as you can.”

“Yes, sir. I will. I’ll try.” Grantaire is babbling and he knows it, but he also knows it’s okay, Enjolras says it was okay, he doesn’t have to worry about seeming stupid because of something he says or does. He just has to be still and quiet and good and let Enjolras use him and he can do that. Because everything is going to be all right, because Enjolras is here.

Enjolras is here and Enjolras is touching him, his hands gentle on Grantaire’s hips and his mouth tentative and warm and wonderful on Grantaire’s cock, and Enjolras is looking at him, at the bonds around his wrists, at his face, like Grantaire is somehow worth it. Worth anything.

Enjolras’ lips close over the head of Grantaire’s dick and he sucks and Grantaire moans, low and harsh because it feels so good but the pleasure hurts and his legs are shaking he’s so tired but it’s still so amazing. He wants to feel Enjolras’ hair in his hands and he forgets about the rope and strains against it which hurts but in a good way. He’s drifting, floating, at sea in the world and so turned on and so thoroughly owned. Every part of him Enjolras’, to use or play with however he wants, hurting or pleasuring Grantarie for nothing more than his own amusement.

He didn’t know he could feel this helpless during this particular act. When he serviced Enjolras with his mouth, it felt like an act of ultimate submission. Now, with the positions reversed, he feels just as totally dominated.

Enjolras’ hand moves from his hip to circle his cock, slowly stroking up and down as he pulls away. “Will you stay still if I move my hand?”

“Yes, sir. Anything. Anything.”

“You’re such a good boy, R. I’m so glad that you’re mine. And you’re so beautiful like this.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire manages.

“Does this feel good? Like I said, I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

But even when he’s admitting his uncertainty, Enjolras still sounds totally in control. “Well, I am happy to have you experiment on me. And it’s amazing. I mean anything you do to me is amazing. Because it’s you. But this is really really fantastic and-“ Enjolras’ mouth is on him again, wet and warm as his hand continues moving at a steady pace—“And you are so fantastic and I love this, I love you, I can’t believe… I can’t believe this is real. I can’t. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal. I’ll be drunk and useless and alone and you’ll hate me again because you probably should and— fuck!” Grantaire swears as Enjolras moves again, closing his teeth hard around the skin of Grantaire’s hip, marking him fiercely. 

“You are mine,” Enjolras hisses, licking over the mark he’s just made. “This is real, and you are mine.” And then he licks his way back to Grantaire’s cock.

“I—yes, thank you thank you thank you, I am, I swear, all of me, yours, I didn’t mean to say that stuff, don’t want to upset you, I can’t help thinking that but every day it’s better, I promise, being with you is just… it’s just so wonderful and—thank you for this, for taking me, for having me, and for—fuck, Enjolras, sir—“ Grantaire is practically incoherent. It hurts. Every touch hurts, he’s so sore and oversensitive, but it’s still incredible.He can’t even think, he doesn’t know whether he wants it to be over or to keep going forever, he doesn’t know the words that are spilling out of his mouth, all he knows is that Enjolras is here and Enjolras for whatever inexplicable reason wants him and that is everything.

Grantaire’s orgasm takes him almost by surprise. Enjolras doesn’t move away, and that’s amazing. That’s so amazing. He almost can’t believe the sight of Enjolras’ lips around him, swallowing as he comes, though there’s not much to swallow. There’s no pleasure to the orgasm—it’s dry and burning and painful, but he knows it’s what Enjolras wanted, and that’s a pleasure more intense than any physical feeling could be.

Enjolras doesn’t stop right away afterwards, keeps sucking at Grantaire’s soft dick until Grantaire can’t stand it. He can’t be good anymore, can’t lie still. He tries to get away and Enjolras pins him still with his hands, keeping his hips flat against the bed, and keeps licking his cock. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to move, sorry-“ Grantaire manages, his eyes squeezing shut. He forces himself to lie still, holding on to the bonds around his wrists, clinging to them, trying desperately to breathe. His breaths grow shaky, and a few tears slip from his eyes, before Enjolras lets him go.

“I think we’re done,” Enjolras says gently.

“Sir, you said—one more. I’m supposed to. I can do it.”

“Shh,” Enjolras says, leaning in to kiss Grantaire, and Grantaire can taste his come on Enjolras’ lips, and it’s the most amazing thing. “I know. You could do anything I asked of you. But I’m not asking for anymore, not right now.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“No, don’t, R. You’re doing so well. You did perfectly.” Enjolras carefully unties him. “I’m so pleased with you. Truly.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Grantaire murmurs, half-asleep. Enjolras hums and shifts the boy into his arms. Grantaire’s body is trembling with exhaustion, but he jolts when he feels Enjolras’ hard cock press against his back. “Will you let me take care of you? Sir?”

“No,” Enjolras says firmly. “You need to rest now, R.”

“But I’m supposed to-“

“You’re supposed to do whatever I say. And I say close your eyes. Rest. I’ll wake you in a little while with something to eat, all right?”

“A-all right.” Grantaire closes his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t say it. I know. But I love you, sir, I love you so much.”

“It’s okay,” Enjolras says, his throat closing up with feeling. He wishes he could say more, he wishes he knew what that feeling was. It’s a pitiful answer and he knows it, but it’s all he has to give. “I know, R. And it’s okay. Truly.”

He doesn’t know if it’s true, if it really will be all right, but he knows that Grantaire trusts him, believes in him, and that is enough.


	23. Chapter 23

Grantaire is able to relax in his arms for a few minutes, but before long he starts to shake uncontrollably. Reading pamphlets about subdrop is one thing. Helping someone through it—knowing you put them there—is another.

Enjolras takes a deep breath to stave off his own panic and then squeezes Grantaire tight. “What do you need, R?”

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Grantaire whispers, his body shaking. 

“For what?”

“For not doing what you asked. I could’ve, sir, I promise. I could’ve been good.”

“Grantaire, you did exactly what I asked.”

“I couldn’t come for you again,” Grantaire says, almost inaudible, as though confessing a shameful crime.

“And that’s all right, love.”

“But you wanted me to, sir.”

“I wanted to see how much you could give me. And you gave me everything you had. I was very impressed, and I’m very proud of you.”

“And you didn’t let me make you come.”

“I will. But later, not right now. Right now you need to relax for me, if you can.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Grantaire says, sounding so small and desolate.

“You did well.”

“I tried,” Grantaire agrees.

“You did. And you pleased me. I’ll let you get me off later, but I don’t need to come to enjoy something, and I very much enjoyed watching you squirm and plead for me.”

“But—I stopped—“

“You didn’t stop the scene. I did. I had enough, and I don’t expect you to question my decisions.”

“Sorry, sir,” Grantaire says, relaxing just a little.

“You’re a good boy.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I need you to take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’re doing so well,” Enjolras murmurs in his ear. “I’m proud of you and pleased with you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re my good boy. Can you say that for me?”

Grantaire is still shaking, his breaths a little raspy. It seems as though he may be on the verge of tears. “I’m your good boy, sir.”

“That’s right, R. It’s okay to cry if you want to. I don’t mind.” He rubs Grantaire’s arm in soothing, gentle circles as Grantaire takes several shaky breaths.

“I’m okay, sir. I’m not gonna cry.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“Just hold me?” Grantaire asks plaintively, and Enjolras wraps his arms around him firmly, pulling him in close.

“I’m here,” he murmurs right into Grantaire’s ear. “Right here, with you.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire says.

Enjolras patiently holds him there, arms around him, until Grantaire finally starts to relax. Every few moments, he whispers something soothing into his ear. “Good boy. That’s it. I’ve got you. I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

About half an hour later, when Grantaire is relaxed, he abruptly sits up. “I’m hungry,” he says. “Can we eat?”

Enjolras laughs. “Of course.”

The two of them make their way to the kitchen, Grantaire stopping to pull on some pants beforehand. Grantaire insists on cooking—“I know what your food tastes like, Apollo, and I’m not that hungry—“ while Enjolras makes him a cup of tea. They sit and eat their sandwiches at the kitchen table in relative quiet, feet twined together underneath the table.

“This is nice,” Grantaire says quietly.

“Hmm?”

“All of this. The two of us. Being together. I mean, I thought about it for so long, but I guess I didn’t think about it just being… pleasant, like this. Nice.”

“It is nice.” Enjolras nudges his foot under the table. “You’re nice.”

“You’re a dork. But I love you anyway.” Grantaire seems to have embraced the freedom to say it, now that Enjolras has assured him it’s all right. And Enjolras, surprisingly even to himself, really, really likes hearing it.

His parents loved him, though they didn’t always make time to say it. Combeferre and Courfeyrac love him, and all the rest of the Amis—Jehan even says it, often enough. But no one has ever looked at him in the way Grantaire does. No one has ever loved Enjolras like this, and no one has ever said they love him like it means everything. Like it means that they’re happy, and that they’d do anything for him, and that he’s bringing meaning to their life.

And if that’s what it means, then maybe Enjolras is almost ready to say it back. “I’m happy with you,” Enjolras tries out, and the words feel true. 

“Me too,” Grantaire says. “Obviously.”

“It is… like you said, it’s pleasant. I wish you’d said something sooner. About your feelings.”

“Would you really have said yes then?”

“I guess we’ll never know.” Enjolras shrugs. “But I’m glad we have this now.”

“Me too. Obviously.”

When they’ve eaten their food, Enjolras washes the dishes, sending Grantaire into the next room to draw or whatever he likes. He finds Grantaire casually kneeling next to his favorite chair, sketchpad on his knees as he works on a drawing of the barricade that had won them this new world. “You know you don’t have to stay there.”

“I know,” Grantaire says, smiling up at him. “It’s okay though, right?’

“Of course it is, R. Never be embarassed about this sort of thing.”

“Good. Because I like it. It feels good to be here… feels like where I belong.”

“Maybe it is,” Enjolras says, his hand coming to rest on Grantaire’s shoulder. “The drawing is beautiful.”

“Yeah. I know… I wasn’t there, at the beginning. And I’ll always wonder, what would have happened, if we didn’t…”

“We did,” Enjolras interrupts. “And it’s not worth wondering about, R. We have other things. Better things. For instance, each other.”

A smile splits across Grantaire’s face at those words. “Yes. We do.”

“And if I had to fight all over again… this would be worth it. I never thought I’d make it this far. I never had a plan for what I would be, after my revolution… but here I am, and I’m happy. With you.”

“You said that already,” Grantaire teases gently.

“Sorry. It’s just… I’m trying to say something, and I’m not sure how. I’m not good with this stuff.”

“It’s all right,” Grantaire says, understanding. “I can wait for you to find the words… though I must admit I never thought I’d see Apollo Speechless.”

Enjolras smiles. “Well, so you have rendered me, my own.”

“Mm. An impressive feat.” Grantaire looks up and grins at him, but the smile soon softens. “I want whatever you can give me, Enjolras. I never even expected this much… and what I have already is more than enough. I know you’re used to fighting, used to the struggle, but with me, everything can be easy. Take your time.”

“Thank you, R,” Enjolras answers simply, carding his fingers through Grantaire’s hair as Grantaire’s head settles into its accustomed place on his knee.


	24. Chapter 24

Courfeyrac brings Eponine to the next meeting. The slender, trembling girl has put a bit of weight on and is smiling tentatively. She clings to Courfeyrac’s hand, though her eyes follow Marius around the room. 

And Enjolras brings Grantaire. 

Enjolras has, contrary to what he thought at the beginning of his exploration of this subject, actually proposed that they do not close the auction houses. In fact, he’s recommended that they remain open, but returning to the initial system—that is, Enjolras personally overseeing every sale. He explains his logic in a brief speech. “I need to step back from an active role in the governance of the New Republic. I have responsibilities in my new household, and besides that, it is contrary to my own beliefs, and the beliefs of all of you here, to maintain too close a role in the government that, yes, I helped to create. I am not aiming to bring about a tyranny with myself at the head, and that is what I fear will happen if I continue to take part in day-to-day affairs. Of course, I will continue to attend meetings of the high cabinet as long as you good souls are willing to have my company, but I am happy to take on the responsibility of overseeing all placements of submissives myself. I hope that Grantaire, our dear friend and my submissive, who has been through the other side of this process himself, will help me monitor the system for abuses.”

“I- yes, I will,” Grantaire agrees, blushing a little bit at the pleasant surprise of being called out in front of all their friends.

“Good. Thank you, Grantaire. I hope you will all be amenable to this compromise. As has been previously mentioned, the auction houses do provide an important service in our republic. Everyone has the right to the pursuit of happiness, and as a governing body compromised mostly of dominants, we would be vastly remiss to take only our own genre of needs in that pursuit into account. Just because I do not understand a submissive’s need to be owned does not mean I should not fight for his right to seek out a partner who will provide for his needs. I long considered the possibility that we should have auction houses without any actual bidding taking place, so as to avoid the abuses that necessarily stem from the involvement of money in such an intimate relationship as this is. Grantaire, would you be willing to speak to why that is not as simple a solution as I, from my position of privilege, thought?”

This, Enjolras had warned him about. “Yes, I, um, will.” Nervously, he gets to his feet. He’s never spoken out so publically at a meeting before, usually prefering to sit in the back of the room and drink. “So. I’m sorry, I’m not as eloquent as Enjolras, but, well, I’ve been through this. Um. To be honest, and I’m not trying to generalize here, I know people have been through some really awful shit, but, uh, the moment I got up on that stage, on my knees, and people were—people were bidding on me, people wanted me, and then I looked out and I saw Enjolras there, I realized that he was one of those people, that people valued me… and I mean the money was part of it, like there was a literal monetary value on me, that was… that was the best moment of my entire life. Look, maybe some of the other subs get this, maybe I’m the only one, but, uh, I’d always felt that I was worthless.” Grantaire hesitates. This part of his life- the part before he was Enjolras’, the part before he was wanted, when he was so desperate to be good enough for someone, anyone, that he put himself up for open auction, is painful to talk about. But then he sees the way Enjolras is looking at him—no, staring at him, eyes beautifully intent and a soft smile on his red lips—and he finds the strength to keep talking. “Like that I literally actually had no worth, that I was unwanted, and unwantable, and all that. So. You know. It’s a thing. And in that moment I knew that I wasn’t. Like that people wanted me. That I was good enough for people to p-pay for, to fight over, that these people all wanted to own me and take care of me. And, you know, it’s definitely a sub thing. I know that a lot of you will never understand that, but know that it’s… look, it’s something we need, honestly, something we probably couldn’t do without, I couldn’t do without, and I’m… I’m so grateful that I had the chance to get it. I mean, the whole reason I went up for auction when I did is because I heard you guys might be trying to shut it down, and if that doesn’t tell you how bad people need this, how much it helps, I mean, I just… I just want to be clear that, I don’t think my own personal experience is worth anyone getting hurt or god forbid sold against their will. But I don’t exactly believe in much, and I do believe that the auction house system helped me very much, and that is generally more good than harm. And those of you who know me know that’s about the most positive thing I’ll say about any governmental institution, including you lot, so.”

“M-may I say something?” Eponine says, tentatively.

“Please,” Grantaire urges the girl.

“I, I know that I had a very bad experience, but I—I wanted to say that I, that I don’t think the system should be shut down. I may not have had a choice in whether or not I went in, but I thought about it. Like when I was younger. I would have done it differently, would have put limits in, would have asked for more money, but I wouldn’t want to live in a world in which the only option for a sub too shy or poor or whatever to find the right dom is to be alone.”

“Thank you both, very much,” Combeferre says earnestly. “Shall we take it to a vote?”

“Indeed,” Enjolras seconds, and Courfeyrac nods his approval.

“All in favor of the proposal of allowing auction houses for unattached submissives to remain open, as long as all sales are directly monitored by Enjolras or another person he appoints personally to the task, say Ay.”

The vote is unanimous in favor. They celebrate the solution with a round of drinks and handing Enjolras a thick stack of paperwork, every sale that is due for the next three months. He smiles, however.

Enjolras takes Grantaire home a bit early. He’s had only one drink, on Enjolras’ orders—a simple “I want you sober enough to consent to me later tonight,” hissed into his ear had been more than enough to convince Grantaire to take it easy—and he’s more than ready to play.

However, his dominant has a few words to say to him first. He barely gets Grantaire in through the door when he pins Grantaire’s hands above his head and kisses him hard. He leans back, looking Grantaire straight in the eyes.

“Wh-what’s this about?” Grantaire stammers. “Did I do something wrong-“

“I am in love with you,” Enjolras says fiercely. “You are- you are the most amazing man in the world. You were so eloquent and brave tonight, sharing your story, you are devoted to me in the most fantastic way, a way I could never hope to deserve, you are beautiful and sexy and I desire you more intently than I have ever wanted anyone in my life, you are funny and creative and everything I am not. You complete me, and I am terribly sorry it took me so long to realize what I feel for you. But it was only because I have never felt anything like this before that it took me so very long to say these words. I love you, Grantaire.”

Enjolras realizes, when he’s finished speaking, that he feels oddly, inexplicably, nervous. He hadn’t expected to. After all, Grantaire has been loudly proclaiming his love for Enjolras at every opportunity since Enjolras told him it was okay, and he hardly expects Grantaire to reject him. But he’s waiting for something, and he doesn’t know what it is—at least, not until Grantaire says, “Oh, fucking finally,” and surges in to kiss him hard.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long since I last updated I'm the worst. There will probably be about two chapters after this one.

“So you know,” Enjolras says, almost conversationally, “you belong to me.”

Grantaire moans, “Yes, sir.”

“I paid for you. I bought you. I have the right to take you.”

“Please.”

“I haven’t made use of that, not ‘til now.”

“No, sir.”

“But now I will.”

“Please, sir. Please.”

“Your safeword is red. Use it if you want me to stop, pet.”

“Yes, please.”

Enjolras thrusts against him again, deliberately rolling his hips into Grantaire’s. He can feel how hard his submissive is. That, coupled with the glazed look in Grantaire’s eyes, his open, panting mouth, and his hands, obediently up against the wall where he was told but still clenching and unclenching desperately, wanting so badly to reach for his master.

“You are my property, and I’m going to use you,” Enjolras hisses into his ear. 

“Yes, please, please,” Grantaire chants. 

“I love you so much. I’m so happy that you’re mine.”

“Me too. It’s all I ever wanted. Thank you—“

“Thank you. For giving me this.” Enjolras bites down savagely at the junction of Grantaire’s neck and shoulder, letting go only when Grantaire’s keening moan turns into a broken whimper. “For giving me yourself.” He hooks a finger through Grantaire’s collar, tugging him off-balance. “Now get on your knees and beg.”

Grantaire does as he’s ordered, kneeling in front of Enjolras with his head bowed and his thighs spread. “Please, sir,” he says. “Please, use me however you’d like. Hurt me or fuck me or let me serve you. Anything.”

“You want to be fucked?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to open you up and use your body for my pleasure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I could push you right up against this wall and have you, or make you suck me off right here, and you’d beg for it, beg to be taken with nothing in return.”

“Yes, please, please-“

“Well, I won’t.” Enjolras smiles as Grantaire tries to hide his disappointment, then continues. “Not today, anyway. No, someday I’m sure we’ll do both of those things. Someday you’ll kneel and plead for me and be denied anyway, but today… today I am going to make love to you, Grantaire. I’m going to touch every inch of this beautiful body that belongs to me and I’m going to learn exactly the way my sweet boy likes to be taken and I’m going to make you come with my name on your lips.”

“Enjolras—“ Grantaire sighs, and Enjolras laces his fingers through Grantaire’s hair, tugging gently. 

“But I’m still in charge. I’m your dominant. And I may choose to use you gently instead of roughly, but do not forget that’s what this is. This is me making use of what I own.”

He hesitates, checking in to see how Grantaire takes his words, if this is something that is helping set the tone of the scene for Grantaire or if he finds it unpleasant or too degrading, if he’d rather their first time making love be between equals rather than as dominant and submissive. 

Grantaire lowers down, pressing his face to the ground between Enjolras’ feet. The sight of him, kneeling and prostrate and completely submissive, takes Enjolras’ breath completely away. Grantaire stays there, completely frozen, while Enjolras tries to figure out what to say. Finally, he looks just slightly up. “Sir?” he says, his voice breaking. “I’m… I’m sorry-“

“Don’t you dare,” Enjolras says, fiercely. “Don’t you dare apologize for this. It’s perfect, and you are perfect.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And now, I want you to follow me up to the bedroom. Crawl.”

“Yes, sir.”

Enjolras turns and walks towards the bedroom, and Grantaire follows, on his hands and knees. Enjolras sits down on the side of the bed and Grantaire kneels between his spread legs, while Enjolras tangles his hand in Grantaire’s hair, tugging fiercely at it.

“I want you to take off all your clothes,” Enjolras says firmly. 

Grantaire strips naked, not fully getting off his knees. He leaves his shirt and pants next to him, and settles back down with his head bowed.

“Good,” Enjolras says, standing. He walks around Grantaire, looking at his boy’s body, tilting Grantaire’s chin up so he can look into his face. “You’re beautiful, and I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m so proud that you’re mine, and I can’t wait to take you the way you want to be taken. Your body is perfect, and it’s mine. I want you to get up onto the bed for me.”

“Yes, sir.” He stands, then hesitates. “Front or back?”

“On your back,” Enjolras orders. 

“Thank you,” Grantaire says, and then lies flat on his back, obedient with his hands on his side.

“You’re doing so well,” Enjolras says quietly. “I’m so pleased with you. Look how hard you are for me.”

“I am. I really want this.”

“Will you be good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep your hands to yourself. Cross them above your head, actually.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re doing so well.” Enjolras straddles him on the bed, pressing his hands against Grantaire’s wrists and pinning him down against the bed. He leans in close and viciously bites at Grantaire’s neck, slowly pressing gentle kisses along Grantaire’s bared throat and then biting him again, hard.

Grantaire whimpers, and tries not to thrust up against him. 

“Stay still for me, love. That’s it.”

Enjolras rolls his hips down against Grantaire’s, pinning him in place with his hands and his body weight as he kisses and bites at Grantaire’s neck until Grantaire’s breath is coming out in desperate pants.

Finally, when Grantaire is desperate and wide-eyed and panting, Enjolras finally lets his mouth move down to his collarbone. “Should I tie you in place, or would you rather stay in place just because I’ve told you to?”

“I’ll stay, sir.”

“Good boy. Don’t move.”

Enjolras continues biting his way down Grantaire’s chest, until he reaches his hips, pressing a kiss to each of his jutting hipbones.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, gently stroking a single fingertip across Grantaire’s straining cock. “Do you want to come? Or do you want to wait for me?”

“Wait, sir. I want to come with you inside me, please.”

“Good boy,” he says, and kisses the very tip of Grantaire’s cock, licking away a pearly drop of pre-come. Grantaire groans. “Now, while I open you up I want you to stay nice and still for me. If you can do that, you’ll be allowed to touch me while I fuck you. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir. Please.” Grantaire hesitates. “I… I… you won’t be disappointed? If I can’t?”

“Of course not,” Enjolras soothes him. “There is no way you can possibly disappoint me tonight. You’re giving me something so intimate and incredible, and that is all that matters. If you speak or move or come without permission, I won’t be disappointed or angry.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you,” Enjolras says. “I love you, and I want to make love to you. I’m so lucky that I get to. I’m so lucky that you’re mine.” And then he’s got his hands on Grantaire’s knees and he’s carefully easing them up, and Grantaire goes with him so he’s exposed and Enjolras can slick up one finger and slowly slide into him.


	26. Chapter 26

The sound Grantaire makes at this initial penetration is easily the hottest thing Enjolras has ever heard. He lets out his breath on a slow, slow whine, which turns into a sob as Enjolras crooks his finger inward, finding Grantaire’s prostate easily.

“That feel good?” Enjolras asks.

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire says, and the briefness of his reply is Grantaire’s clue that his boy is sinking into subspace. It must be the simple act of penetration that’s doing it, the knowledge that he’s being opened up so his master can take him in such an intimate way.

Enjolras says just that—“You love this, don’t you? Knowing that you’re taking this for me, so I can use you—“ and the way Grantaire sighs out “Yes” is all the answer he needs, slipping a second finger in.

Grantaire chokes out a moan, starting to fuck back on Enjolras’ fingers and then freezing. “Sorry, sir.”

“That’s all right. You barely moved.”

“You’ll still let me—when you fuck me?”

“If you’re good from here on out, slut.”

“I’m trying, sir. It just feels so good.”

“I’m glad.” He curls his fingers, and Grantaire cries out, so he does it again, and again, until Grantaire isn’t just moaning, he’s whining with the pleasure and the attempts to keep himself still. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your cock, sir. I want your cock in me. Please. Please. I want you to fuck me. It’s all I want. Please.”

Enjolras smiles at how incoherent his boy already is, leaning in to drop a kiss against Grantaire’s bare shoulder, a chaste contrast to the filthy fast motions of his fingers inside Grantaire. “You’re cute when you beg. I should have you like this more often.”

“Please-“

“Precious little whore.”

“Fucking- please, Enjolras, please-“

“Are you in any pain right now?”

“My dick is aching, but other than that, no-“

“So you can take a third finger for me?”

“I’d rather have your cock- ohhh,” Grantaire sighs, as Enjolras pushes three fingers into him in a blunt, short thrust. 

“You like that?”

“Yes,” Grantaire moans.

“No smart words now?”

“No, sir.”

“I love you, beautiful boy.” Enjolras leans in, kissing Grantaire wet and filthy and open-mouthed as he fucks him with three fingers in fast, hard strokes until Grantaire is open, readily accepting the strokes no matter how harsh they get.

Grantaire is keening into his mouth, his legs spread wide to allow Enjolras to fuck his fingers deep inside him. Grantaire’s mind is spinning. He feels formless, lost—the only thing that keeps him grounded, the only solid thing, is Enjolras’ touch, Enjolras’ fingers inside him, Enjolras’ weight pressing into him.

He once thought of Enjolras as a statue, fine marble that he could never touch, and the reality is at once better and worse. He is as solid, as strong, as Grantaire ever imagined, but his touch isn’t cold, isn’t distant and unimaginable. Enjolras’ touch is as tender as it is confident. He’s loving Grantaire and owning him all at once, and there’s nothing for Grantaire to do but lie there and take it and hope that he decides to take what’s his, wait for Enjolras to take him.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Do you promise to stop me if it hurts?”

“I do.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, love.”

Grantaire wants to make some kind of joke about how Enjolras’ cock isn’t as dangerous as he might like to think, but he’s too fucked out to think of anything. Instead he just smiles up at his dom. “I trust you.”

Enjolras returns the smile and kisses him one last time, biting at his lower lip, before pulling away a bit to strip off his pants. He leans back in, settling between Grantaire’s legs, letting his lover feel his hardness as he presses it against his ass. “You can touch me now,” he says. “I want you to put your hands on my hips. Guide me in. Let me know how fast you want it.”

Grantaire reaches forward to do just that, looking up to meet Enjolras’ gaze as he takes a firm hold of Enjolras’ glorious, firm ass, guiding him forward until the tip of his cock is pressed against Grantaire’s hole.

“Now?” Enjolras asks.

“Please,” and then Enjolras slides slowly forward, looking into Grantaire’s eyes as he takes him, takes ownership of him, takes him apart.

The first few thrusts are slow and tentative but Enjolras keeps looking at Grantaire, keeps seeing nothing but acceptance and want on his face.

“You can move your hands now, however you want,” Enjolras says. “I want you to show me what you like.”

Grantaire’s legs come to lock around Enjolras’ waist, holding him in place, keeping him close. His hands are around Enjolras’ neck, alternately just holding him and drawing him in for kisses. 

“This, please,” Grantaire replies, his head falling back as Enjolras’ thrusts get rougher and faster. “Please-“

Enjolras lowers his mouth to Grantaire’s neck, biting a mark on the exposed golden skin. “Mine,” he says. “You’re mine.”

“Yes, fuck, yes- harder, please, sir, you won’t hurt me, I need it-“

“Good boy, you feel so good, you look so beautiful like this, under me, taking me-“

“Enjolras-“

“You can touch yourself, if you want.”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I’m too close, I’ll come-“

“I want you to. I won’t last either, and I want to feel you come around me.”

Grantaire wraps his fingers around his cock at those words, stroking himself roughly in time to the thrusts Enjolras is making inside him. He’s beyond words now, every thrust Enjolras makes drawing another rough whimper from him. It just feels so good. Grantaire’s been fucked before, but nothing like this. Because this is Enjolras, because this is lovemaking, because this matters.

Enjolras’ arms are around him, pinning him down and holding him at once, and Grantaire is overwhelmed and grounded, lost and found, and he doesn’t know anything except Enjolras’ touch and how perfect this is.

“All right?” Enjolras asks, stilling for a moment. “You’ve gone all quiet.”

“Please, sir, don’t stop, please-“

Enjolras starts to move again, slow, even thrusts that make Grantaire gasp after every one.

“Enjolras-“

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to-“

“Yes,” Enjolras says, his words rough and bitten-off. “Yes, do it, do it for me, I want to watch-“

And Grantaire arcs into his touch, off the bed, and comes at the permission, at the look of desire and love, perfect, pure, undoubtable love, on Enjolras’ face. 

Enjolras kisses him, swallowing up his cries, as he fucks Grantaire through the orgasm. Grantaire lets his head rest against the pillows, watching Enjolras. Now that the edge is off, he can just look and enjoy the sight of Enjolras fucking him, the slow rippling of the muscles in his stomach, the straining of his arms, the way his long, blonde hair falls in his eyes.

“I love you so much,” Grantaire says, and he’s never meant it more.

“I’m going- R, I’m going to come, can I, inside-“

“Yes,” Grantaire urges him. “Please. I want that. I want you to mark me.”

Enjolras lets out a low groan, one more sharp thrust into him as he comes, and then goes still, letting himself collapse onto Grantaire’s chest.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's read and commented! I hope y'all have enjoyed it.

They lie there, in the still silence, for a long time. Enjolras is a heavy weight on Grantaire’s chest, warm and sweat-soaked and so firmly, certainly there. 

Grantaire is tired, exhausted from the force of his orgasm and the emotion of the night. He isn’t sure he could move if his life depended on it. Luckily, the only thing he needs to do is lie here.

They breathe together, Grantaire relishing the feeling of Enjolras on top of him, the slow, steady rhythm of their breaths and heartbeats coming into time with each other. He can feel Enjolras’ warm breath on his skin, feel his heart beating into their pressed-together chests, feels how Enjolras is his, is here.

“I should move,” Enjolras says eventually.

“That’s an outrageous suggestion.”

“I must be crushing you.”

“Mm. It’s pretty comfy, actually.”

“We’re a mess. I should get us something to clean off with before we’re permanently glued together.”

“Fine. Come back fast,” Grantaire grumbles.

Enjolras kisses his forehead. “Will you be all right if I leave you, darling?”

“Hmm? What, yes, of course. It’s not that. I’m just happy.” 

Enjolras smiles, brushing his warm lips against Grantaire’s as he does. “Me too. I’ll be right back.”

As Enjolras stands up, Grantaire sprawls out so he’s lying across the entire bed. Enjolras grins indulgently at him when he gets back, gently wiping his back and stomach clean of their come before cleaning himself equally efficiently. 

Then he lies back down, snuggling in next to Grantaire.

Grantaire rests his head in the crook of Enjolras’ neck, just breathing for a while as Enjolras’ hands come to settle on his body—his right hand around Grantaire’s waist, flung casually around his hip, and the other curled behind his head, petting his hair.

“You’re mine,” Enjolras murmurs, into Grantaire’s ear, and smiles as the other man shivers a little.

“I am,” Grantaire agrees. “All yours, now.”

“Always mine. No one else is ever going to have you again.”

“No, sir,” Grantaire says, the words slurred into Enjolras’ skin.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Really good.”

“Anything you need?”

“I’m all right.”

“No danger of subdrop?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “No. I feel great. As long as you’re here, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Enjolras assures him. “I wouldn’t want to go anywhere. This is nice.”

“This is amazing. I can’t believe we haven’t done this, like, every day. I mean, cuddling with you is always good, but this is really, really nice. You’re so comfy. And warm.”

Enjolras kisses the top of Grantaire’s head. “You’re sweet. Especially when you’re out of it.”

“It’s your fault. You’re the one who fucked my brains out.”

“How terrible. Will you ever forgive me,” Enjolras laughs, kissing Grantaire’s forehead, his nose, his cheeks. He feels them curve up as his lips make contact, Grantaire smiling underneath his kisses.

“I don’t know. I imagine you’ll have to find something very clever, but I have confidence in you.”

“Appreciated,” Enjolras says. “What if I… hmm. I suppose I could lie here and hold you for a while, and in the morning maybe make us breakfast in bed together, and then tie your hands to the bed and blow you, and then I’ll tell you how much I love you before we have to get up and face the day, and then we’ll do this forever, you and me together. We’ll share these quiet moments at night and in the morning, we’ll have dinner together and take long walks through the city, and I’ll probably get stressed out and neglect you at times, and we’ll fight like we always have and always will, but I’ll always remind you that I love you. We’ll never let the fighting get in the way of that, and we’ll have our whole lives to figure this out, and just to enjoy being together.” Enjolras smiles at the expression on Grantaire’s face and kisses his lips. “How does that sound to you?”

“I guess I might be persuaded,” Grantiare agrees, smiling, and kisses Enjolras back.

Their kisses turn lazy quickly. They’re both too tired for any more. Grantaire cuddles back against Enjolras’ chest, letting his Dom hold him securely, treasuring the fact that he has what he’s always wanted.

He’s wanted and accepted, exactly the way he is. He’s good enough to be wanted, good enough to be kept, good enough to be Enjolras’.

And Enjolras loves him too. He never thought he would have that, but now he can’t doubt it. He feels the truth of Enjolras’ love in every stroke of fingers through his hair, in every gentle kiss pressed to his skin, in every word Enjolras is murmuring to him.

He never expected to be so happy, but now he doesn’t just feel it—he knows he deserves this. He doesn’t just feel good, but also good enough.

Here, in Enjolras’ arms, Grantaire is finally someone he feels proud to be.


End file.
